Dissonant Dreamers
by SpydaBass
Summary: After the events of the first three Maverick Wars, and the events of "Vile's Redemption", a new conflict arrives at the Maverick Hunters' doorstep and a clashing of beliefs begins to form. (Chapter 5 Added)
1. Prolouge

Well, here we are again, readers. You've been lured (in some bizarre way) to read yet another story from me, the Spyda. I know, you enjoyed your break after my last story for a little while, but now it's time to read some more of my aged bullplop. C'mon, it isn't _that_ bad, right? 

...alright, fine, let's make that a rhetorical question. Just to be safe. 

But don't worry, folks. If you enjoyed by previous story, the ever-crazed _Vile's Redemption_, then chances are that you won't mind trudging through this new conception of mine. Those of you new to my stuff, feel free to take a look around, decide if you like what you see. If you don't, then... well, you're probably sane. Congratulations! 

But joking aside, my friends, I think it would be appropriate if I started setting the scene for the storyline now. You know, an introduction. Everybody loves introductions (unless, of course, they don't). 

Alright, then. Now, we all know that we humans, what with our inquisitive nature and everything, have the ability to dream. Dreams are something that drive us to certain lengths, for better and for worse... they represent our desires, our fantasies, and such. And they're extremely powerful; so much so that the very lives of every human being on Earth could be eternally altered by the dream of just one other. 

But then there's reploids, the mechanical counterparts of humans. Do they possess the initiative to dream? Could a single reploid - or a group of them, for that matter - change the course of history with their beliefs and desires? The Mavericks and the Hunters are a prime example of this; they each have conflicting desires and dreams, causing their antagonisms of one another. Thusly, reploids must have some reason, something deep inside them that produces their dreams. And where this comes from, many humans may never know or understand, even those that create reploids themselves. 

It's based on this realization that this story is based. Now that three Maverick uprisings have been quelled, and it's been some months since the events of _Vile's Redemption_, new conflicts have just begun to arise. The Mavericks have been almost reduced to nothingness, and their broken leader Sigma wishes nothing but revenge. And now that a new Hunter faction has been established, the Repliforce, new ideals and dreams will begin to come into play. Even those without any alliance will begin to have their voices heard, for better and for worse. 

So now, watch and listen, because this new conflict will delve into the lives of... 

**DISSONANT DREAMERS**  
_A Sequel to _Vile's Redemption_  
January 2003_


	2. New Awakening

**Chapter 1: New Awakening**

* * *

The nipping, harsh weather that normally accompanied the later days of the autumn season was definitely not something that the average middle-aged human was not used to. While it was popular belief that the coldest weather of the entire year occured mostly during the months of January and February, when the holiday season had been long snuffed out and people were prompted to return to their mundane, workaday lifestyles, the year passing had brought with it some of the worst early December chills to ever grace the city. And, while there were plenty of people in the city who never really minded a numbing cold once in a while, there were also still those who hated every aspect of the clouds' dance with every thriving bone in their bodies. 

But, luckily, the man who was usually cold to the rest of the world was never really affected by the sharp cold that nature conjured up. 

The man sat against a chilled, metallic wall, in the corner of a somewhat small and uncomfortable room. He was almost shrouded in the shadows, his darkish clothes naturally blending with the blackened areas of space that light had kept untouched; he was very skilled at blending with his environment, as if he were a chameleon. Had somebody entered the room just then, they would probably have had a difficult time trying to pinpoint the solitary figure sitting beyond the florescent lighting that covered mostly the room's center. And he would enjoy it, too, watching the naive newcomer amble by him as if he didn't exist, like he were a ghost. Some people believed being ignored to be a bad thing, and the man didn't quite understand why that was... if anything, a person being oblivious to your actions just made things much, much more entertaining in the long run. 

Allowing his cloak to conceal most of his body from the neck down, he adjusted his position a bit, letting his knees bend in front of his face as he leaned his crossed arms against them, keeping his head pointed below. The matted, blackish fibers that formed his hair were all that could be seen of his head now; he liked keeping his face out of the light, only deciding to fully face forward when it was completely necessary. He wasn't the most trusting of people, but that was understandable; most of his past experiences with modern members of society had just ended up making his life even more unpleasant than it already was, forcing him to pent up feelings of annoyance and impatience for most living beings that he didn't consider an ally. But that was fine with him... he never did have any use for those who annoyed or pestered him, those who brought him down or made an enemy out of him. The less, the better, he believed with all of his will. 

Then again, allies were harder to come by these days. The man, in reality, didn't have any actual friends; that was impossible, considering that he didn't believe in the concept of friendship or fraternity. The closest that one could get to being his friend would be being an ally... but, even then, it would be doubtful that this 'ally' of his would be trusted any more than an enemy. But that was just the way he was, and if people couldn't deal with that, then it was their own problem, not his. 

It wasn't long before the poisonous sting of boredom began to drive itself through the man's skin and penetrate his blood. Lazily, he lifted his head, directing his glance to a business counter on the other side of the room. There, two men were arguing - the one behind the counter was a stocky man donned in a regulation employee uniform and glasses, with dark brown hair and narrow eyes. The other, who seemed to be painfully stressed out, appeared to be a young blonde-haired man in his mid 20s wearing a dark red shirt and long, whitish pants. He also wore a dark-hued utility belt, with a gun holster at his right side that was mysteriously empty. The man knew the latter of the two; The silent man considered him an ally, and had done so for almost a year now. The young man could've been considered an apprentice of his, but that wouldn't make much sense, consdering that the man in the corner didn't really have any kind of steady career. But he still held authority over the blonde boy, and thus was persistent in keeping him under his watch at all times. 

But now, it seemed that the man's young associate was beginning to lose his self-control, which was never a good thing. The boy looked positively angry at the clerk behind the counter, with his face twisted in surmountable frustration and his fists each tightly clenched. A surge of interest spreading throughout the silent man's body, he tried as hard as he could to listen to the conversation, his left ear waiting for any kind of signal. Soon enough, the banter became so loud that it overcame the monotone buzzing of the flourescent lights. He could hear them clear as day: 

"C'mon, this is ridiculous!" exclaimed the young man, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. "Don't you understand the situation we're in? We NEED a transport to take us to the desert. NOW. Can't you just..." 

"Listen, kid, I dunno what to tell ya," the clerk interrupted nonchalantly, his tired eyes glued to a mundane sports magazine at his desk. "But I can't find clarification on your reserved transport. Maybe it got misplaced - things've been backed up like hell around here in the past week. Tons of customers, all complaining about not getting this-and-that... lack of workers around here... riots breakin' out... you know how it is. You can't appease everybody." 

"...what do you mean, 'tons of customers'?" the young man retorted. "There's barely anybody in here, and during the day, I've only seen about seven or eight people in this room at the same time. And even that's a stretch." 

"Well, for one thing," the clerk began, "it's 3 A.M. Legally, this store shouldn't even be _open_ right now, let alone have much business. And secondly..." He leaned over the counter, his eyes narrowed at the surly customer, "I honestly believe that you need to learn a bit about patience, my friend. For the last time, sir, we can't find a reservation for a transport under the name that you apparently registered. Maybe there was a slip up with the system, we've been getting those quite a bit lately..." 

"Slip up! Oh, come..." His voice trailed off into a series of inaudible grunts and curses, followed by a deep sigh. He lifted his head so that he could look the union worker right in the face. "Alright then. How about you check that computer of yours again." 

"Ugh... fine," the employee huffed, turning back to the small computer monitor on his left. "What was the name again...?" 

"Mercutio Braunwood," the boy said slowly, as if the clerk were hard of hearing. "M-E-R-C-U-T-I-O, B-R-A-U-N-W-O-O-D. Got that?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," the employee replied, huffing a bit at the customer who assisted in making his morning even worse than it usually was. Crackling his knuckles a bit, he pressed his bulky fingers against the keyboard buttons before him. The young customer rapped his fingers impatiently against the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish his sluggish typing. Soon enough, the man pressed one final button to imput the request, followed by a series of three low-toned beeping sounds. The clerk shook his head in sort of an "I told you so" manner. 

"Well, kid, what can I say?" the employee repeated. "There's no 'Mercutio' guy registered on this system. I'm afraid that-" 

"Oh, COME ON!" the customer shouted furiously, pure rage in his blueish eyes. "No! I placed an order on here, dammit, I _know_ I did. _You_ know I did! This must be a scam! A setup! Is that what it is?!" He pointed a damning finger at the clerk, his eyes narrowed like a hawk's. "This whole place is just one big conning, isn't it? You wait for average joes to wire you money, and then you claim that they 'aren't registered', or some alibi like that? And then you _swim_ in the profits...!" 

"Sir, _please_," the flustered clerk ordered, the tone beginning to raise in his voice. "I'm sorry, but this is the way things have to be. Mistakes happen, and-" 

"MISTAKES?!" the man shouted, is face reddening beyond the breaking point. "What do you mean, 'mistakes'? This is a business you run here, and in businesses, there needs to be something called 'competence' and 'reliability'..." 

"Alright, sir! PLEASE!" the employee almost shouted, his voice resonating and bouncing in between the walls of the closed-in room. "That's enough! I think you're blowing this _way_ out of proportion. Now, listen... we can still iron this out, maybe." He paused for a moment to rub his forehead a bit, which was idlely beginning to generate a piercing headache. He began speaking again before the young man could begin yet another tirade. "Okay, let me ask you this, kid. Who is this 'Mercutio' guy? You?" 

The color began to return to the young customer's face as he slowly calmed himself down, taking a minute to answer the question. "Well... no, actually," he responded. "Mercutio's just an associate of mine, and he's the one who placed the order. He asked me to get everything taken care of, though." 

"Oh, well, what a wise choice of him," the clerk rebuttaled, trying his hardest to keep the sarcasm down to a minimum as to not provoke another sudden outburst of anger from the perturbed customer. The last thing he needed was for his headache to launch a full-fledged blitzkreig. "Well, is this associate of yours around here right now? It'd be easier for me if I had a talk with him." 

The young man gave the clerk a narrow-eyed, suspicious look; he knew that this scruffy union employee didn't want to deal with him any longer. "Yeah, he's here," he mentioned coldly. "I don't know if he would want to talk to you, though. He has kind of a 'thing' about having conversations with complete strangers, you know? You can just let me take care of this." 

"Buddy, I need to talk to this Mercutio fellah," the clerk stated, refusing to give in. "He's the guy who placed the order, and thusly, he's the guy who I need to straighten things out with. So you either get him, or you get no service from me. We clear on that?" 

Now the customer just couldn't stand it anymore. With a swift and sudden motion, he reached for his gun holster attached to the back of his utility belt. He gave his new adversary an evil smile as he patted around anxiously for the location of the deadly weapon... but was crestfallen upon remembering that he had lent it to a comrade of his only a few days ago. The former look of sadistic pleasure that had formed on his face changed immediately back to an embarrassed and sour one, and he groaned as he glared at the man who had intended in putting a gaping hole in just a moment ago. 

"Alright, fine! I'll get him," the young man sighed, finally forced to admit defeat. "But believe me, you got off lucky this time. I would've KILLED you if I had my gun." 

The employee huffed. "Yeah, well, you don't." 

With that, the frazzled blonde-haired customer flashed him one final glance of poison before turining a full 180 degrees and calling out to his apparent associate. "HEY, MERCUSH!" he blared all too loudly. "We need you over here for a minute. This guy's been giving me grief, and want to talk to you about something!" 

The man in the corner huffed. He'd seen the situation slowly unfold from beginning to end, and he didn't like where it was going at all. And now, the young man who he trusted to take care of the situation had been remiss in his duties, forcing him to intervene. And he hated social confrontations, even the slightest ones, because he had never had an easy time trusting strangers. 

But still, it was inevitable now. As silently as possible, the cloaked man rose above the corner's darkness so that his full figure could now be partially distinguishable. As he walked into the pool of illumination generated by the flourescent lighting above, all of his physical features were made much more distinct; his cloak covering the majority of his body, sans thCore muddy shoes that he wore and the upper part of his dark-grey shirt. He maintained a medium height, about 5'9", somewhat shorter than his coleague. His face didn't appear to be all too welcoming; his eyes were a lightish shade of blue, but still intimidating, and he kept something of a dissatisfied frown in his expression. Once he had approached the front desk, he glanced over to the young, blonde-haired man before even batting an eyelash at the disgruntled clerk. 

"Corsair," the man addressed him, a bit of poison recognizable in his tone. "I thought I told you to take care of all this yourself. You're a big kid now." His speech held a hint of a British accent, which seemed to contrast his partner's crude, obnoxious voice. 

"Hey, don't go blaming me!" the younger man named Corsair countered, his voice rising in desperation. "I had things _perfectly_ under control, Mercush. No problems. But that clerk guy, he has NO idea what he's doin' over there. He was just real nasty to me, you know? Probably had a lousy childhood, if you ask me. Maybe he was raised by serial killers, or wolves, or zombies, or something..." 

"Alright, Corsair. Enough," the older man Mercutio ordered, the impatience slowly rising in his voice. "Just tell me now, if you don't mind. I'd like to know what this man over here wants to talk to me about." 

Corsair lifted an eyebrow. "Well, ah... I guess he wants to talk to you about the order, 'cuz he can't find your name, or something. I swear, I spelled out your name PERFECTLY, and he still couldn't find it..." His voice lowered to a whisper. "I mean, jeez, maybe it's a conspiracy, you know? Maybe he knows what we're trying to do, or something? We can't trust anybody, Mercush, and this guy just seems like a..." 

"Whatever," Mercutio briskly interrupted, sounding completely apathetic about his colleague's words. "Just keep quiet and let me take care of things from now on, alright? Go wait for me near the benches. I won't be long." 

A frown formed on Corsair's young, pale face. "...hm. Fine." He crossed his arms in a primadonna-esque manner and ambled over to the benches on the far left of the room. As he sat, he didn't even bother looking over at his senior and grudgingly searched for other ways to entertain himself. 

Showing no further interest in his disgruntled comrade, the stately Mercutio approached the impatient man seated at the admission counter, rapping his fingers against his desk. The employee gave the black-haired ruffian a look of mistrust. 

"So I'm guessing you're this 'Mercutio' guy," the clerk began snidely. "Please tell me, buddy, that you aren't gonna spaz out on me like your friend over there." 

Mercutio mentally shuddered at the word 'friend'. "No, I'm not going to 'spaz out' on you, so to speak. But if you don't mind, sir, I think it would be easier if we just disregarded his sophomoric actions for a minute and focused on whatever the problem is here." He rested an elbow against the counter, not even looking the clerk in the eye. "My 'friend' tells me that there was a problem with the order, or something like that. Couldn't find it in your records..." 

"Well, yeah, I'm guessing that's the problem," the employee confirmed, nodding his head. "I couldn't find any orders under the name 'Mercutio Braunwood', and I checked twice with the correct spelling. Nothing." 

Mercutio paused in thought for a moment, pondering the situation. "Alright, well, I fail to see where the problem is," Mercutio responded in a very brief and apathetic manner, still not looking the man behind the counter in the eye. "Screw the 'reservation'. We can just make the transaction now. You have the transports, I have the money. Simple as that." 

"...well, I don't know if it's _that_ simple," the man replied skeptically. "Our reservations have been a little booked, you see. Lots of transports have been held in reserve lately, and I'd have to bend the rules quite a bit in order to just open another one up..." 

His words were interrupted when the black-haired stranger quickly placed some money on the table somewhat forcefully, revealing a small mixed wad of 20 and 50 dollar bills. Without even bothering to count it, he slid it slowly towards the man. The clerk eyed Mercutio with narrowed eyes before looking down at the cash presented to him. 

"There. That should be enough," Mercutio calmly stated, as if ingoring the man's previous words entirely. "Go ahead, count it, if you want. Trust me, it's all there." 

And the clerk did so, mostly out of a servere mistrust of this shady newcomer. After taking a second to count up each and every bill in the pile, he raised his eyebrows and nudged the bills back to Mercutio, shaking his head in rejection. "Well, sorry, buddy. This ain't enough... far from it, actually. So unless you've got more than this, I'm gonna have to ask you to-" 

"Okay, fine," Mercutio quickly interrupted, a chilling tone starting to grow in his previously casual voice. "Let's make a _new_ proposition, then." He leaned over the counter somewhat threateningly, his eyes now piercing into the employee's own. "Now listen. Last time I checked, the time was 3 A.M. I don't doubt for a second that you would sell your soul to get the hell out of this miserable rut of a place and go home to... well, whatever it is you have to go home to, if anything. I, for one thing, want to get to my destination as soon as possible, just like you. So consider this: you take the money, give us a transport, and we'll be off. Out of your life. And trust me, we'll probably bring the transport back before any 'reserved' customers start to whine. But if you deny our order, then, well... we'll stick around. Me AND him. And trust me, my 'friend' over there will be sure to make your life as miserable as possible before we're gone." He chuckled to himself sadistically after that bit. "So, take your pick. I leave you to your common sense." 

The clerk, his eyes still narrowed with suspicion at the untrustworthy 'customer', took a moment to deliberate this. It was true; the last thing he wanted was to deal with that psycho of a sidekick again, something that would undoubtedly conjure up the legendary Migrane of Non-Mercy. His face began to convulse with frustration, knowing that he was finally stuck between a rock and a hard place. "...ALRIGHT, fine!" he reluctantly belted out, snatching the money and angrily computing Mercutio's order into a computer to his left. After he had completed the order, he snatched a keycard from an upper shelf and handed it to the cloaked devil. 

"Here," the employee snuffed, still bitter about the situation. "Use this to get in. Go down the main hall, take your first right, and keep going straight until you find it. It's transport #706. Greenish-looking. Not too hard to find." 

The now-satisfied customer took the keycard with restrained joy, a wicked smile spreading across his usually dour face. He inspected it only for a second and then began walking off. "Good, glad to see you finally complied," he said snidely as he walked off. "Continue with... well, whatever it is you do when there's no customers. Best of luck to you." 

"Yeah... whatever," the stressed union worker muttered in regret as he watch Mercutio signal to his colleague, prompting him to follow his lead. He did so, and within seconds they were out the right door and headed down the hallway to wherever the hell they needed to go. The clerk didn't care anymore; the only thing on his mind right now was the beautiful, far too distant dream of retirement and, eventually, eternal rest. He sighed at the thought; at this rate, it seemed as if neither would ever come. 

* * *

"I wasn't exactly pleased with your performance in there, Corsair," Mercutio lectured casually to his younger ally as they both ambled down the empty corridors, making their way to the transport. "If I had to pick the worst ten ways of handling a situation like that, your actions would most certainly be up there." 

"Oh, come ON, Mercush!" Corsair begged him, a bit of anger rising in his voice. "That guy was criminal, stealin' our money, you know? How am I supposed to take that sitting down, I ask you?" 

"I don't know," his elder said loudly. "Figure out a way to, though. You haven't been living up to your expectations lately, Corsair, and if you're going to constantly be traveling with me like this, then I suggest you get your act together. In case you weren't aware, you're _easily_ expendible." 

Corsair scowled; he hated it when his comrade used that word. Out of everything he could imagine himself being considered as, a 'tool' was the one he believed to be the worst of them all. He would NOT be used, manipulated, or any of that crap, by ANY means. And, as hard as he tried, he couldn't get Mercutio to understand where he was coming from. 

"Nevertheless," Mercutio continued as he rounded the first corner, "I'm still going to need you around. This entire business with the fortress... I just want to get it out of the way, as soon as possible. Then, after that, we find the runaway, and deal with him. And then, well... we'll see what plans I've got after that." 

Corsair raised an eyebrow as they approached their transport, #706. Mercutio liked keeping his plans under the radar for as long as possible, even with his closest allies, and needless to say it bugged the hell out of the young mercenary. That was the feeling he had always felt since he got involved with his crowd; whenever he did so much as walk through a door, he had no idea whether or not 50 armed guards would ambush him out of nowhere, or that the floor would collapse, or that he'd ram straight into a brick wall. His entire life was completely unpredictable, and he still couldn't tell whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. 

But he knew what they were going to do, at least, after they reached the desert. There was a fortress, some months ago, that had been completely decimated and turned to rubble. It had been territory of the rebel reploid group, the Mavericks, and had been the area where one of Mercutio's top agents had infiltrated. However, that very same agent soon betrayed him and cut off all communication with him. Since Mercutio had a firm belief that this agent held far too much incriminating information, he was very determined to find him, and Corsair dreaded what kind of lengths he would stoop to in order... 

Before he could continue his constant mental pondering, he was suddenly stopped by Mercutio, who used an outstretched arm to signal a quick halt. Corsair soon saw why; directly to their right was the door leading to transport #706, exactly where they needed to go. 

"Well, this is it," Mercutio stated, swiping his keycard through the slot planted on the door. "I'm just hoping that you're ready for all of this, Corsair. You've been with us for only a little more than a year, and even during that time you haven't spent much of your days traveling like this." 

"Nah. I'm ready, trust me," Corsair assured, though knowing deep down that he would probably never be ready for anything Mercutio planned out. Breathing in a bit heavily, he followed his elder into a medium-sized room, a plae-green color all around, with small cushioned seats placed on seperate sides and a sizable vending machine. Before he or Mercutio could say another word, the door behind them automatically snapped shut, and a calming voice rang from the intercom: 

"Welcome to the Global Transport System. This transport, #706, is slated for a non-stop arrival at the Terencse Desert Transportation Bay. Predicted arrival time will be in approximately 3 hours and 30 minutes. Food or drink may be ordered at anytime using the call button, and restroom facilities are provided near the front of the transport. Thank you, and please enjoy your trip." With that, the entire room began to make a kind of clanging noise, and soon enough it began to slowly start moving. Mercutio, unfazed by the entire situation, callously stretched out his arms and took a seat at the other side of the room. 

"Well, we've got some time," Mercutio stated, a wry smile forming across his face. "Just remember what we're doing after we're out of here, Corsair. We have something very important that we're looking for, and I won't accept screw-ups. But for the time being, just relax, and prepare. That's all we can do for now." 

* * *

The sun rose that morning, for the first time in months. Due to the chilling December weather that had spread throughout the bustling town of Terencse City lately, almost entire days at a time had been covered with a relatively dark and misty sky, with the sun being completely blocked out. But now, the sun was beaming bright, something that had rarely accompanied the morning lately; one might say that this new sun would serve as a sign, signifying a new beginning of sorts. But to most of the natives in Terencse City, they could care less about symbolism - they were just grateful to have the source of heat, and rightly so. 

But the sun was very, very illuminating that particular morning. Its rays beamed far throughout the countryside, bringing light to every corner of the continent, and serving as a shining beacon for those seeking guidance. One could describe in a multitude of words the kind of beauty that morning sun happened to radiate... 

...well, that is, if a tiny hint of sunlight weren't to direct itself straight into one unsuspecting reploid's vulnerable eye. 

Mega Man X could barely shield his left eye from the superheated ray before he was forced out of what used to be a very peaceful slumber. The burning was incredibly harsh; even after he had thrusted both hands tightly against his distressed-looking face, the painful sensation was still implanted deep within his retina, and it spread itself so far that now it seemed as if his entire face were swelling up like a ball, regardless if machines were actually capable of such an action. 

"...ARGH! My FACE!" he shouted in his usual less-than-masculine tone, shaking his legs and rolling his torso back-and-forth on his bed like a 3-year-old who just had his favorite toy taken away. Of course, that 3-year-old probably didn't have to endure excrutiating pain, much like X did; his kicking and screaming didn't seem like it would come to a halt. Soon enough, without warning, the black-haired azure-armored Hunter had rolled around so many times that he ended up falling right off of his bed, taking the sheets with him. His cry of surprise was soon met by a sharp, searing pain in his right knee, one that quickly helped him forget about his scorhed eye. After a few more minutes of kicking, thrashing, twisting, groaning, and yelling, X had finally lost almost every ounce of energy he had left in him; admitting personal defeat, he lay spread-eagle on the floor, gasping for air, with the sheets still covering his dormant body. 

With that, a dead, awkward silence filled the room, sans the monotone inhaling/exhaling of X. His mind still trying its hardest to understand what had just happened, the black-haired soldier poked his head through the sheets, just so that he could examine the situation. He made a very weak effort to get back on his feet, but knew that he lacked the energy to do so. The pain in his eyes had finally subsided; actually, he suddenly realized, that stinging really wasn't anything too serious. X had overreacted, and it hadn't been the first time. 

It wasn't very long before the silence that had become endemic to his room was shattered to pieces. His face still directed only towards the ground, X could hear some faint voices outside, ones that he could barely recognize at first. It wasn't until the noisy squeaking of the door opening that X could really determine who the voices were coming from. Summoning as much energy as possible, he cracked his neck upward enough so that he could see at least the bottom half of who had entered the room; it was a man, no doubt, one wearing a pair of navy-blue, baggy pants, which extended far down his legs and slightly covered the light brown loafers he wore to cover his feet. Though he struggled to get a better look at the man standing before him, X realized that any further straining would probably end up breaking his spine. He thrusted his head downward once again, letting his chin rest against the carpeted floor. 

It was then that X could have sworn hearing the man chuckle a bit to himself, as if the sight of him in this kind of state was comical, in some bizarre way. Then, finally, the fallen reploid heard the man say something out loud in a calming, yet amused tone of voice: 

"Well now, X. Nice to see that you're finally awake. Tell me, how's that knee injury of yours been holding up?" 

The battered X groaned audibly; being a machine with human emotion, he was fully capable of expressing emotions such as self-pity, woe, and even frustration. Now he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, who that man was in front of him; the voice had become strangely infamous over the course of the years. Looking upwards but still only able to see his mentor's feet, a grimace slowly formed on his face as he spoke. 

"Hey... Dr. Cain. Nice to see you too," the embittered reploid replied, followed by a woeful sigh. X really, really hated being in embarrassing situations like this. 

"Hmm," the doctor pondered. Suddenly, though X's field of vision was pretty limited, he began to notice that the man's figure was beginning to become relatively shorter; his knees were bending, his arms and torso were coming into sight, and finally, the man's face had lowered to the same level as X's. Dr. Cain's face was easily distinguishable - it was a bit wizened, but not too much so, as Cain was still in his mid 60s. His greyish facial hair formed a somewhat ruffled mustache and beard, which withheld a sharp contrast to his completely smooth, hairless scalp. In his left hand, he held a mid-sized cane, which he carried around almost all of the time he was mobile in order to prevent himself from straining his partially-limp right leg. From X's point of view, a half-smile could be clearly seen on the doctor's face. 

"Now, X, I'm a little afraid to ask," said Dr. Cain with some caution, "but some of the medical workers and I were hearing some pretty loud and painful screams coming from this very room. Now, I find you laying on the ground, your hair all matted up and your eyes reddened, with a bedsheet on top of you. I'm guessing that you either abruptly awoke from a horrific nightmare foreshadowing dark events in the future, or you mistakably swallowed a fly. But maybe it'd be best if I heard it from you." 

X mentally cursed the decisions of fate as he looked his mentor straight in the eye to give him an answer. "I... got burned in the eye by a ray of sunlight," he replied, trying his hardest to quell his embarrassment only to fail miserably. "It startled me... and I fell off of the bed, right on my knee. And it hurt, and that's... why I was screaming." 

Cain rolled his eyes a little bit before making eye contact with X again, adjusting the upper part of the long, blueish coat that he wore. "Well, I guess that _is_ pretty rough, eh?" he said with a chuckle, now pushing his cane against the ground in order to return to his original stance. "X, I still don't understand why the smallest inconveniences seem to effect you so negatively. There really is no reason for you to overreact like this so much." 

_Oh, shut yer hole, old man..._ X rambled in his mind; even though he and pretty much every other Hunter in the building withheld a deep sense of admiration and respect from the doctor, there would always be times in which X just couldn't stand him, even if he knew that the doctor was right - well, ESPECIALLY if he knew the doctor was right. 

"I know, I know..." X muttered, keeping his sight aimed at the ground again. "I can't help it if I'm startled by something." 

"Well, nevertheless..." Cain began again, his voice becoming a bit more serious. "I'm actually very glad to see that you've finally woken up... well, not in the most graceful manner, but let's just forget about that for now. There's something else I need to talk to you about, and it is a bit important." Looking back down at X, he extended a free hand. "Need a little help?" 

"No, no, NO thank you!" X suddenly huffed out, a new wave of desperate energy running through him. He began to push himself upward with his arms and legs, knocking the bedsheet right off of him. "I can get up myself, I'm fine, I'm fine! See? I'm up. I'm fine, I - AGH!" His rambling was cut short when he pressed down a little too hard on his right leg, causing a searing pain to spread through it. In complete agony, X impulsively grasped onto his bandaged knee, his eyes doubled in size and his teeth tightly clenched. Cain, forced to witness the disturbing spectacle, raised his eyebrows and shook his head before approaching the frantic reploid. 

"Alright, X... calm down, now," Cain said comfortingly, placing an arm on the Hunter's shoulder and trying to have him relax. "There now. You see what happens when you get to energetic? C'mon, have a seat on the bed, and relax that damned leg of yours before in snaps in half, _please_. I'm only going to talk to you for a minute, and then you can go back to... well, whatever it is you do in here besides sleeping, if anything." 

X's lips began to form some curses, but unfortunately for him, they were barely audible. Reluctantly heeding his mentor's words, he slowly limped over to his bed, making sure to be as cautious as possible this time around. He sat down gently on the empty mattress, keeping his right leg hovering above the floor. Glad to see that the reploid had finally cooperated, Dr. Cain grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and sat on it right in front of X's bed, so that they could talk in a more direct manner. 

"Well, first thing's first. Your leg injury. Jenn and the other doctors have been telling me that it'll take about week to fully recover. And, thusly, I'm required to keep you out of any strenuous activities until that week is over. This would most definitely include training, battling, and the like." 

"Wha - a whole _week_?" X questioned, sounding a little surprised and crestfallen. Though X was well known as a reploid who very much disliked war and fighting, he always had felt very secure in training, since he knew well that a new threat to the peace of the world could just pop up at any moment and he needed to be prepared at all times. "But doc - I honestly don't think the knee injury is _that_ bad, per se..." 

"Well I'm sorry X, but it's what I have to do," Cain interrupted him. "Don't blame me about it, though. Blame that new weapons instructor who 'accidentally' shot that laser at you." 

"Oh yeah, that guy. Has he been punished yet?" 

"Well, he _was_ suspended for a month." 

"...oh, c'mon, that's weak! You've made _me_ scrub bedpans before, just for doodling a bit on some stupid capsules." 

"Well, they were extremely fragile capsules, you see," Cain argued, trying to get X to stop his babbling. "But nevertheless, I think it's best we get to the issue at hand here. Now listen up. Since you're detained for the time being, I have an interesting job for you that won't involve fighting or anything like that. You'll probably like it; it has to do with the Repliforce." 

X paused for a brief moment. "Oh... Repliforce." 

"Yes. I've been very pleased with the kind of progress that the branch has been making lately, as you probably know. There haven't been any traces of Maverick breakouts lately, or at least since the Soul Eraser incident. They're an extremely accomplished militarial and peacekeeping power already, and they've only been in power for... what, six months?" 

"Almost," X corrected him. 

"Right," Cain agreed. "Well, anyway, though the Repliforce has been very useful and supportive to our cause over the past few months, they aren't without a few problems. Nothing major, but they're there. You see, since the force is completely ran by reploids, humans are rarely ever seen around there much. Many of their soldiers also retain a strong sense of honor with the Repliforce, and aren't fond of the fact that they're really under Hunter control. Because of these facts, some of them have been harboring resentment towards the Hunters, believing them not to be personable, or that they're too cocky, or whatever. I'm not completely sure of the situation, but still, I feel a bit guilty that they feel that way, as the Hunters mean no harm to them at all." 

X was nodding consistently, though still showing a lack of interest. "Mmm hmm. So, tell me, what does all of this have to do with me?" 

"Well..." Cain began again. "I've decided to send a Hunter or two over to the Repliforce HQ, so that they can visit with the General and talk to the soldiers staying there. I think that it would be very healthy for their morale, and it'll show them that the Hunters aren't driven on crushing their honor or anything like that. And you, X... you're definitely the main person that I want to send." 

Upon hearing this news, X raised his eyebrows a bit, unsure of how to respond. Though he wasn't averse to the Repliforce in any way, he always had a feeling that he wasn't exactly idolized among them. More specifically, he'd never felt comfortable around the Colonel, who had never really seemed to acknowledge X's authority before. Colonel was definitely much more of a friend of Zero's, elite Hunter and X's best friend. Zero was much more liked among the Repliforce soldiers, mostly because he had this kind of social charisma that X could never imagine himself having. Furthermore, X couldn't understand why Zero... 

"Well, why not just have Zero do it?" X suggested to the founder of the Maverick Hunters. "I mean, Zero doesn't have a limp knee, and he's more of a 'likeable' person than I am anyway." 

"Well, I _would_ have Zero do it too," Cain admitted, "but for the time being, he's off doing something else. Actually, I think he's off on a scouting mission with the Colonel, Iris, and some of the Hunter forces. So while they're off doing that, you'll be staying at the Repliforce building for a bit. So, how does that sound to you?" 

X paused for a second, thinking this through. "Hmm... well, I don't know. I'm not a very convincing person, you know. You sure you can trust me to represent this entire place's opinions?" 

"Oh, nonsense, X. Of course I trust you!" Cain enthusiastically replied, making it sound as if the Hunter had just muttered a string of gibberish. "Not convincing? Who ever gave you that idea, my boy? You're VERY convincing, very personable. Hell, that's what your creator built you for, remember? He wanted you to be a contributor to the good of society, and only to fight if the world would really benefit from it. So yeah, X, you're perfect for the job." He gave his surrogate 'son' a pat on the shoulder. "Trust me. The Repliforce complex is a very nice area, and I've made sure that you'll have a warm welcome. The General will take care of everything for you when you get there, I assure you. Everything's set up, and everything'll be fine. Does that sound good to you?" 

Sighing a bit, X looked to the doctor and shrugged lightly. "Yeah, well... I guess it couldn't hurt. I've been needing something to do, anyway." 

"Good, good! That's the spirit, X," Cain said pridefully, beaming at one of his best soldiers. "You'll be leaving at around noon this Wednesday, so be prepared. Trust me, you visiting there would definitely help in strengthening the relationship between humans and reploids. Oh - and I almost forgot to mention... you have the choice of who you want to bring with you. Just as long as it isn't some wino you picked up off the street or anything." 

"...well, I don't know why it would be," X replied, a bit confused at Cain's statement. "But yeah, I guess I'll be prepared." 

"Alright, then. That's all settled," Cain concluded as he lifted himself from his chair, letting his cane support him. He said a little bit more before heading for the exit. "I'll leave you alone for a while so you can get some rest, X. Jenn may come around in a few hours to check up on your progress so far. So just remember that you're leaving on Wednesday, and I'll talk to you about it later. Arrivederci." 

"Well... okay then. Bye," X replied before the good doctor finally ambled out of the room, shutting the door tightly behind him. 

Finally allowing himself to stretch out his arms and legs, a distressed X pressed his back against the soft mattress of his bed, letting his entire body just lay flat. _So... Zero's on a scouting mission, eh?_ he mentally recapped. _Well, it figures. This is what he always. Literally charming the pants off of that Iris, while having a spot of tea with Colonel. Mr, Charisma strikes again._ Although X knew he was exaggerating that a bit - for one thing, Zero and Iris weren't exactly pursuing eachother or anything, but X had always felt that the two of them had something going on. Iris, the Colonel's sister, was somebody Zero had been forming a friendship with for a while now, and knowing Zero's nature, X didn't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out the situation. 

It was then that X's thoughts wandered back to his future visit with the Repliforce. The blue-plated reploid still felt somewhat uneasy about it - he couldn't really pinpoint why, but there was a strange feeling inside of him that advised him to watch his back while he was over there. But X, being as tired as he was, wanted nothing more than to just forget about all that for the time being; resting his head against the pillow and gently shutting his eyes, he let his mind wander to thoughts of tranquil valleys, gentle ocean waves, and Zero getting conked over the head with a frying pan until he had fallen into a deep, calming stasis. 


	3. Mavericks Divided

**Chapter 2: Mavericks Divided**

* * *

During the tumultuous years of the 22nd century, underground fortresses weren't exactly the most popular - or convenient, for that matter - places to live. The Earth's inhabitants had been digging beneath the planet for many years, as below the surface lay invaluable amounts of natural resources, which would be essential to the survival of the human race. After over a century of this kind of consistent excavation, however, the humans had attained almost all of the natural resources left in the planet, keeping enough to last them for many, many years to come. Thus, the area underground was undesireable mostly due to the barren, resource-lacking areas that resided there; the Earth's underbelly had become one giant, empty wasteland. 

However, while this served as a hinderance to humans, mechanical beings were exempt from certain elements necessary to the humans' survival and could easily live beneath the Earth for as long as they wished. For example, reploids, robotic beings with the ability to feel and express human emotion, would be perfectly capable to live in such a place; however, during this time, reploids were a house divided when it came to their opinion of humans. Human defenders, also referred to as "Maverick Hunters", preferred to stay on the surface where they could remain under the watch of their human mentors and try to live an independent life. Then, there were the reploids that were spat upon by society... the "Mavericks", as they were called, the beings who would do anything in their power to rid the world of humans forever, believing themselves to be oppressed second class citizens (and weren't exactly wrong in this claim). For them, the underground ruins were not wastelands, but sanctuaries; a perfect area to remain isolated from the humans and their petty protectors for as long as they needed until a counterstrike could be planned out against them. 

But the Mavericks, unfortunately, now formed only the minority of the reploid population thanks to several crushing defeats. After their last battle with the Hunter forces, they had lost almost everything they treasured in one horrific explosion that had engulfed most of their soldiers, weapons, and their entire fortress in general. The survivors, as small as they were, eventually were forced to hibernate underground and rebuild their shattered organization against all odds. Their leader, once an enthusiastic, powerful, and cunningly ingenious Maverick sympathizer, had been somehow reduced to nothing but an empty shell of himself; thus, new leaders were forced to keep things organized, and were quickly realizing that saving the organization was much harder than they had imagined. It had been months since the Mavericks' downfall, and things still had not improved in the slightest. It was almost as if this kind of depression would never cease, that the Mavericks would never be powerful enough to rise up once again and claim the planet as their own, like they had always dreamed... 

To put things bluntly, as a young reploid known as Darrick woefully observed, the entire situation just sucked donkey balls. 

Now, Darrick wasn't usually one to be a pessimist, so him observing something like that was a pretty big thing. Then again, how could he not be pessimistic, what with everything that had been going on in the past several months? Not too long ago, he had joined the Mavericks as a young recruit, experienced in battle tactics and combat, but was particularly talented in management, leadership, and such. Although he wasn't exactly a hard-nosed human hater, he believed that reploids certainly deserved their proper share of the society that humans had established, and hoped that one day the Mavericks may be able to attain that. And, having quickly risen to the rank of a Colonel, he really felt that a difference could be made. 

But that was then, and this was now, Darrick thought wistfully as he sat in the office that day. "The office", as everybody had gotten used to calling it, was actually just the area where all of the head Mavericks usually met together and discussed the future of the organization. Their leader, Sigma, never actually attended these meetings; he seemed to lack the ability since the fall of their last fortress had damaged his psyche. No, the ones who met there were actually quite few; there was Agile, a tall, violet-armored figure of authority who seemed to resemble something of a jester, awkwardly enough. His boots were tipped at the edges, the bottom of his torso armor stuck out like knives, the helmet he wore on his head had 'flaps' on the sides that were permanently raised skyward... and yet, he was still considered an authority figure, and actually took Sigma's place in organizing and directing Maverick activities. 

Darrick watched Agile as he sat. He, Agile, and the several other people sitting at that long, oval-shaped table in the office were in the middle of a meeting, one that usually occured every month. While the young Maverick wanted to believe that these meetings actually went somewhere, he knew he would just be deceiving himself; the meetings were pointless, and usually tended to debate the same useless and annoying issues that "plagued" the Mavericks over and over again. His vision to make a difference had been distorted... a year ago, when he was much more naive, he would have never imagined himself in a situation like this. But what could he do now? There was no way out of it; too many people depended on him, and even if that weren't true, there was still nothing else he could do with his life after this. He was a Maverick, after all, and Mavericks were regarded with scorn in the real world. 

"Well, Demetrius, I'm glad that you had the gall to bring up an issue like this..." said Agile, who sat at the head of the table next to Darrick. He held a stack of papers in his hand, and was shuffling through them as he spoke. "But, in all honesty, I'm still a bit confused at this. What you're saying here is that if we want to increase our ranks we need to..." 

"...clean out the damned bathrooms! Of course," interrupted a reploid sitting at Agile's left, a stocky, greenish-hued Maverick that resembled a lizard of some kind. "I mean, let's get serious here, people. You wanna know why barely any more soldiers have been joining the Maverick ranks? Because we have a TERRIBLE reputation for bathrooms. Disgusting!" The lizard pounded a fist angrily against the table, jarring many of the other Mavericks out of their seats in surprise. "We need to do something about that firsthand, screw everything else." 

Agile, usually good at keeping his cool, simply raised his eyebrows at the lizard Demetrius while every other Maverick around him began to chatter consistently to eachother about what had just been said. The elite Maverick made a calming gesture to keep them silent before continuing. "Well, Demetrius, this whole bathroom issue hads been debated over and over again since we moved here," he explicated in a soft tone, "but the fact still remains that the bathrooms are messy because... well, nobody uses them, really. We, being reploids and all, don't _need_ to use bathrooms. The only reason they exist is because our building crew had been using blueprints from an old human establishment, and forgot to edit that part out. Then again, they aren't the sharpest knives in the drawer... but that's another issue entirely." 

"Well, we should clean 'em, anyway!" Demetrius almost shouted, the anger rising in his raspy voice. "You know, why can't we just allow humans to join us? THEN we could put those bathrooms to use, and voila, no more problem." 

This statement brought about an even louder chatter from the other seated Mavericks. After calming them all down once again, Agile paused for a moment, sighing with frustration. "Demetrius... no. Just _no_," he said very clearly. "This entire organization is based mostly on a very, VERY strong disliking of the human race. Furthermore, I don't think humans themselves are very happy-daffy with us, either. So what makes you think that a human would be able to step foot in this establishment without being ruthlessly slaughtered in less than second? No human would EVER take that kind of risk, and even if that weren't involved..." 

"Well, new and improved bathrooms might lure them in," Demetrius persisted. "I mean, come on, you'll never know until you try!" 

There had been plenty of moments in the past in which Agile refused to dignify a statement with a response, and this was certainly a new addition. So instead, the violet-hued leader looked back longingly at the papers he held in his hand, which Darrick knew was actually a list of issues that Agile himself had been aching to bring up. Knowing that the list was now nothing better than a hunk of useless scrap, he ripped the papers to shreds, a mixed expression of anger and frustration on his thin face. As the small pieces of wasted tree bark drifted like snowflakes to the ground below, covering part of the desk, Agile finally looked back to his now shock-stricken colleagues. A look of poison spread across his face. 

"Okay, people..." he started once again, slowly standing up from his chair in order to take more of an intimidating stance. Once he had reached his full height, he pressed his metallic hands against the surface of the table, and leaned over a bit to stare straight into the frightened eyes of the other Mavericks in the room. Darrick, being directly to Agile's right, was luckily spared from his superior's dagger eyes. "Listen to me. We've been in this room for over four hours now, and we haven't resolved a SINGLE RELEVANT ISSUE since we got here. So I'm giving all of you one last chance; anybody who has an _intellegent, well-prepared, sensible_ to bring up, please raise your hand now." 

A brief silence followed; the several other Mavericks in the room, now relatively surprised at their superior's sudden reaction, didn't seem corageous enough to actually raise a hand. However, Darrick watched carefully from the sidelines as one particular Maverick in the back, a thin, red-hued humanoid with a sullen-looking face, cautiously raised his right hand. Although his apprehensiveness only allowed him to raise his arm halfway up, the other Mavericks began to catch on, and soon enough pretty much every other Maverick in the room had their hands raised high to the sky, sans Darrick. Agile huffed a bit. 

"Well, okay then, maybe I need to specify a little more," he began again, returning to his upright position. "when I meant 'intellegent, well-prepared, sensible' issues, I was NOT including issues that involve East-Canadian terrorism." 

With this proclamation, half of the Mavericks reluctantly put their hands back down, leaving only three left on the other side of the table, still as eager as ever. 

"...or overly-sharp kitchen forks and knives..." 

Pouting, two others lowered their hands, leaving only the red-armored humanoid left, the same one that had been first to raise his hand. 

"...OR the incident involving the tarantulas running rampant through the ventilation ducts." 

With a longing look still plastered on his innocent-looking face, the last remaining Maverick wistfully lowered his hand slowly back under the table. As of now, everybody seated at the table now had their sights tightly directed towards Agile, who had taken his seat once again and happened to be staring venomously right back at them. 

"Hmph. Fine, then!" the head Maverick suddenly blurted out, throwing his hands madly into the air. "No more issues, eh? Well, GOOD THEN! I'm sick of sitting here and listening to you all ramble about nothingness for one day. All of you are free to march your sorry behinds the hell-diddly-el out of here, if you've got nothing left to say. Meeting adjourned. Go back to your duties and make sure not to screw up like you usually do. GO!" 

Before anybody else could get another word in, the flustered Agile swung his chair in the opposite direction so that he was now completely out of view of the other Mavericks in the room. Darrick, he himself surprised at his comrade's sudden outburst, was now unsure of what to do; everybody in the room had grown completely silent due to the command, trying to figure out if Agile had really cancelled the entire meeting or if this was all just some giant, stupid prank. After a few seconds, he hastily decided that if anybody was going to step in and handle this situation, it might as well be him. 

"Err... well..." Darrick nervously began, rising up from his chair to address the others and letting his entire frame show. His body was generally mid-sized for a humanoid like him, with an armor pattern comprised of only dull-blue with some black trimmings and a skin-colored face, with a small matting of brown/reddish hair covering his scalp. He himself had always though that this look never signified any kind of real authoritiy, but never really considered it an important thing. 

"Alright, everybody," he called out to the unnerved, silent group. "Err... I'm pretty sure you all heard what Agile said pretty clearly. All of you can go for now and return to your normal duties. Agile and I will discuss matters for a little bit, and, uh..." Stumbling on his words, Darrick remembered how much he hated giving orders like this. "...well, maybe we can set up another meeting some time later this month. But for now, you're all dismissed. Thank you all, and, uh... have a nice day." Lord, how he hated trying to word things right. 

But, luckily for him, his message got across well enough. Although the Maverick delegates still seemed to express a mixture of dissapointment and utter confusion, they all did what they were told. One by one, they abandoned their seats and headed for the double-doors behind them, chattering endlessly to eachother along the way. Soon enough, every last seat had been emptied, leaving only Darrick and a very disgruntled Agile remaining. Darrick, still standing in a tensed-up position, glanced over to his superior. 

"Er... well, they've all left, sir," he said nervously, hoping that he wasn't asking for trouble; he knew that Agile could get dangerous when he was angry, even to his most trusted allies. "I'm sorry the meeting had to go over like that... things have obviously been a little shaky around here lately. If you want some privacy, I'd be glad to leave-" 

"No, no, wait," Agile suddenly interrupted, spinning his chair around to face the desk once again. His voice sounded exceedingly calmer than it was before, which was definitely a good thing, although a hint of depression still remained. "Just sit down, Darrick. Probably best that we discuss some matters." 

"Oh, alright," Darrick muttered, now fully relieved that his superior wasn't in any kind of raging temper. As he took his seat, he let go of a small sigh of relief that he'd been keep pent up inside him, and sat at full attention to listen to what Agile had to say. The room hung in an awkward silence for a bit before the violet Maverick finally began to speak. 

"Tell me, Darrick..." Agile began, clearing his throat out a bit. "I want to know something from you. We've been sitting in this room listening to pointless chatter for over four hours now, and during that entire time, you haven't uttered a word. Now, from my personal view, it seems like there's something you've wanted to say..." 

"Wha - me?" Darrick stuttered, scolding himself mentally for making himself look like an idiot. "Well... no, I really don't have much to say, besides the fact that the meeting didn't really go over very well." 

"...ah. So what you're implying is, these past few monthly meetings have kind of sucked lately?" 

"Yeah, I guess that's a good way to sum it up." 

Agile's face looked grim, Darrick noticed. And, having known Agile for a while now, he knew that it wasn't just because they both knew that their "meetings" were utterly useless; the entire state of the Maverick organization was in shambles, and it undoubtedly had plagued Agile's mind since the day he took control of Maverick activity. Darrick, noticing that they both had been silent for a while now, decided to break the ice once again by coming up with something else to talk about. 

"So..." he began casually enough. "Have you heard any word from Sigma lately?" 

Agile huffed a bit. "Sigma? Nah. He hasn't spoken a word to me since August, and even then... well, he didn't really say anything coherent. Sounded like he was muttering something about an 'invincible army of angels', but from the way he was talking, he could've actually been saying 'sugar pie hunybunch, you know that I love you'. I have no friggin' clue what he was talking about, and honestly, I don't give a damn." 

Darrick raised his eyebrows. "Uh... huh," he replied with caution. "Well, do you know anything about Sigma's conditon now?" 

"Nope," he replied simply, his voice taking an innocent tone that Darrick had never really heard in him before. "It would be nice if SOMEBODY from the medical wing would tell me how he's doing. But for now, I just want to forget about Sigma, because he sure as hell isn't doing much to help us out now. From now on, when anybody asks me about him, I'm just going to forget the small talk and say he's a vegetable. Make my live a lot easier." 

"Well... what about Serges?" Darrick asked, his inquisitive nature getting the best of him. "I though he was supposed to be at this meeting too." 

"Yes. He _was_..." Agile said, sounding overly annoyed. "I did ask him to come, actually. But he's busy! He's ALWAYS busy, working in that stupid lab of his downstairs. Doesn't seem that the welfare of our ENTIRE ORGANIZATION matters much to him anymore. His crappy LAB EXPERIMENTS matter more now! Ugh." He let out a very strong sigh, shaking his head in disgust. "I hate to say this, Darrick, but I think this may be one of the first times when I wished Violen were still around. I mean, sure, he was an idiot, but he was still another source of entertainment." 

_Violen..._ Darrick recognized the name immediately. Violen had been one of the three original 'X-Hunters', along with Serges and Agile. Ever since the fall of the last fortress, Violen had disappeared; reports later claimed that he'd escaped the fortress earlier on, in an attempt to dodge the Hunters. Although he was bulky, ape-faced, and not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer, Darrick recalled forming an awkward friendship with him during the time that he knew him. The Mavericks had no idea where he'd gone, and since it had been months since his disappearance, the odds of them finding him again were getting slimmer and slimmer. 

"Well... what is it that Serges is doing, exactly?" Darrick asked, sounding more and more concerned with each question. "Last time I talked to you about, you said that he still wasn't done with that whole 'fusion' thing. You know, with those two traitor Mavericks..." 

"Oh, I don't know," Agile replied with frustration. "He's been very secretive lately. Have you noticed that? Not only has he neglected to attend Maverick meetings, but he hasn't left that laboratory downstairs in... weeks, I think. Who _knows_ what he's doing? Maybe he's building some kind of mechanical chocolate fairyland! Not like he would tell ME!" He angrily pounded a fist against the table, causing Darrick to recoil in shock a bit. "And that 'fusion' thing. Bah! I've been pestering him for WEEKS about that, and he's refused to show me any kind of work that he's done. I don't know why he needs to hide anything from ME." 

The fusion; another strange aftermath of the fall of their last fortress, Darrick recalled. The whole idea started up after two renegade Maverick technicians, T-17 and T-18, hijacked an escape capsule that was intended to hold the entire Maverick forces. Because of this disregard, scores of Maverick soldiers were left to die in that fortress, cutting down their ranks drastically. Thus, as a punishment to the two, they were both forced into a reploid "fusion" experiment involving the two of them joining together to form a new super-Maverick. Agile and Serges had conjured this idea up months earlier, Darrick remembered, and Agile was still concerned over its advancement. 

"Ugh, I don't know WHAT'S going on, if you want my honest opinion..." Agile lamented, letting a sigh escape his lips. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this job. I mean, I just can FEEL my authoritative powers slowly slipping away from me! Do you what that's like, Darrick?! It's horrible! It's almost as if I won the lottery, and then had a bunch of super-intellegent sabertooth tigers invade my house, tie me to a chair, steal my money, and then BURN in with a... err, a... burning thing. Yeah! Do you realize what kind of _crippling emotional damage_ I'm getting from all of this?!" 

"Sir, sir! Calm down!" Darrick begged of his superior, noticing that he was beginning to hyperventilate far too much. "C'mon, now. If you just sit here and keep complaining to yourself all day, NOTHING'S going to get done." 

"Oh, OKAY then, Darrick!" Agile snapped in a high-pitched, mocking tone. "Thanks for the frickin' reality check, O Glorified Sage of Advice. I'm sure you've just got _everything_ figured out, haven't you? I'm SURE you have a better way to approach the situation?" 

"...err, well, now that you mention it..." 

"I KNEW it," Agile said damningly. "Well, alright then, Captain La-De-Frickin'-Da! Let's hear what you damn well have to say, since you obivously think you're so much smarter than everybody else in this building. Go ahead! Spew your biggoted tripe. See if I'm impressed." 

Darrick paused for a moment; he really wasn't sure if he and Agile were on the same wavelength, or if Agile still had some sanity left in him, but somehow he forced himself to press on. "Oh-kay..." he began cautiously. "Well, for one thing, I think you might have misinterpereted me. I never said that I was smarter than you, sir, I was just saying that other things could be done to help the situation." 

"Huh. well, it's not like your opinions ever really do anything for our benefit..." 

"Nevertheless," Darrick interrupted, the impatience beginning to rise in his voice. "Hear me out on this one, Agile. Listen, you're the guy we voted to keep this place running while Sigma's out of commission, right?" 

Agile huffed a bit. "Well, yes." 

"And, as the Maverick in charge of temporarily taking Sigma's place, you have the right to every bit of information involving everything that's going on around here? If somebody working for you is developing something in secret, you still have full authorization to find out exactly what they're doing?" 

He paused. "Err... well, yes. But even-" 

"Well, then what are you sitting around here for?" Darrick asked with a strong, commanding voice, forcing his superior to focus his attention on him. "What you need to do is get the hell out of this stuffy office and exercise your authority. You want to find out what Serges is working on, right? Then what you do is march right down to his lab downstairs and find out EXACTLY what he's doing by any means necessary. Confront him, talk to him about it, get what information you can out of him. If he won't comply, you sure as hell MAKE him comply." Darrick took in a bit of air. "Do you understand what I'm saying here?" 

Agile, surprisingly enough, had been renedered speechless. Although he had been fully prepared to denounce Darrick's words with a series of arguments, something in his comrade's advice struck a chord in his mind. Right before Darrick's eyes, the expression on Agile's face transformed from pure rage to innocent curiosity; his brow was furrowed, and he was rubbing his fingers against his chin. The more he thought about it, the more it began to make sense, Agile mentally noted. 

"Hmm..." he grumbled, slowly beginning to nod his head. "Darrick, you know... that might actually be one of the most sensible ideas that I've heard all day." 

Darrick had to stop and stare for a moment. "Uh... really?" he asked lamely. 

"HELL yes!" Agile enthusiastically responded, a new kind of optimistic attitude brimming within him. "It makes sense, it really, really does! I mean, I'm the main man around here, aren't I?" 

"Err... yes, of course." 

"And, me being the main man around here, I'm entitled to know everything about everything that's happening around here! Correct?" 

"Yup." 

"Right! I'm the biggest frickin' cheese in this building. If somebody like Serges is hiding something from me, I have every right to find out what that is, right? I mean, what the hell's stopping me?" 

"Absolutely nothing, sir." 

"OF COURSE!" Agile boldly declared, leaping out of his seat. "It's the perfect idea! C'mon, Darrick, follow me to the laboratory downstairs. We're gonna take care of this whole mess RIGHT NOW. Now time like the present, if you ask me. We'll sort all of this out, and be back in time for lunch. Come, Darrick, destiny awaits!" 

"...well, alright, but maybe we should-" 

But Darrick was far too late. Before he could say anything more, the newly energized Agile had already thrusted himself out the door, his metallic boots clanging vociferously against the carpeted flooring. Darrick, knowing that it'd be a foolish gesture not to follow him, quickly lifted himself from his seat and headed in his superior's direction. 

_Well, this has been one interesting day, hasn't it?_ Darrick thought with sarcasm. _At one moment we're discussing the non-repairable damage done to the enitre Maverick organization, and the next we're surging through the doorway to make changes for the better. Christ... I've been here for only a little more than a year, and I'm already getting tired from trying to keep track of all this._

* * *

_"I remember... when we could sleeeep on stooonesss..."_

A soft, melodious voice drifted throughout the sewers, filling the underground caverns with a sense of peace. It was a voice very rarely heard in a dark, contaminated, smelly, and overall undesireable place such as this... but still, there it rang, drifting through the circular tunnels and greeting the ears of any who were fortunate enough to hear. 

_"Now we liiie together... in whispers and moans..."_

But the truth remained, however, that no sensible living being would ever spend their precious time in a disgusting place like a sewer. No, the only creatures hearing this foreign melody were the ones who normally infested these sewage-filled passages; rats scurrying about, fish gliding through the contaminated waters, and even an alligator or two that somehow found its way there. But if human or reploid had actually ventured down there, they might have been a little confused to find out who was singing this partially unknown song. 

_"When I was all messed up... and I heard opera in my head..."_

The source of the song could actually be traced back to a small, raft-like structure, which was steadily floating along the sewer's murky, greenish waters. The raft itself didn't seem like it was any example of quality worksmanship; mostly, it was a combination of several pieces of wood, all loosely bound together by a few pieces of twine. This wasn't exactly a good thing, considering the weight of the people intended to ride the thing. 

Those people happened to be two traveling reploids, both lost and searching for the home they had been forced to leave behind. They each sat at opposite ends of the raft, minding their own business; sitting at the far left was a thin, short reploid, with a full body armor tinted with a faded yellowish color. His face was very notably disheveled, with half-opened bloodshot eyes, matted brunette hair, and an expression that yearned for some kind of eternal sleep. He sat very still, his back facing his raft-mate, trying to ignore all his surroundings and keep himself undisturbed. 

However, on the far other side of the raft, things seemed to take a full 180 degree spin in terms of overall mood. Sitting on the other side was a very bulky, fearful-looking reploid, with unnaturally large arms, a sizable belly, and a face that wasn't exactly the most welcoming. Despite these qualities, however, the red and yellow hued behemoth wasn't acting at all like it seem he should've; with a happy-go-lucky look on his face, he held a small wooden paddle with both hands, pushing the raft along with cheer and aplomb. A smile implanted on his face, he continued to sing: 

"Your love was a lightbulb... hangin' over my bed..." 

As cheery and bright as this bulky reploid happened to be, not everybody shared a similar cheer. The thin figure sitting at the other end of the raft, his friend's shrill voice bouncing from eardrum to eardrum, looked back at his friend. His entire body began to convulse a bit, and his face began to look exhausted and sunken in. 

"V...Violen..." he called, his voice sounding raspy and throated. "Could you please... stop singing? It... it HURTS..." 

The large figure, about to breathe more life into his wistful melody, stopped dead in his tracks after hearing his partner's plea. Setting his paddle to rest on the raft, he turned to face the irritated reploid. 

"Stop singing, you say?" Violen asked him with a gentle voice, not quite sure how to handle the request. "Well... why would you want me to do that?" 

"Well, because..." the other reploid began groggily. "I'm not... not feeling very good. It's already really noisy... your voice makes things really noisy... EVERYTHING IS REALLY NOISY..." 

"Well, Gulch, there's a _reason_ why you think everything's noisy," Violen stated, "and that's because you're hungover, my boy." 

"Ehhh..." Gulch groaned, turning his head towards the other end of the sewer tunnel. "You don't... know... nuthin'." 

"Oh, I don't?" Violen rebuttaled, starting to get annoyed at his friend. "Kind of funny, you saying that I'M the one who doesn't know anything on this raft. You wanna know why there's a constant buzzing in your ears right about now? YOU'RE HUNGOVER. You stayed up all night boozing yourself to death, and now you're hungover because of it. And, to top THAT off, you embarrassed the hell out of me in Clemenstown after you attacked that guy on the street..." 

"He was COMING ON to me!" Gulch proclaimed, rage present in his tone. 

"Gulch, he was a parapalegic." 

"...you don't need your limbs to sexually offend somebody, Violen." 

Violen had to pause to pause at that remark. "Ahh... right," he said warily. "Maybe we should get off this subject. But the truth remains, Gulch - you need to stop this whole drinking thing. You've been doing it nonstop since we left the desert, and I think that it's really starting to attack your sanity." 

"Hey, I've been drinking for a LOT longer than since we left the desert, pal!" he exclaimed angrily. "Years longer. You've only known me for a few months, man... don't go tellin' me what I'm gonna do with my life. I'm not willin' to change..." 

"Well, nevertheless," Violen began again, grabbing the paddle once again and continuing to row the raft along. "Even if you can't quit it, could you at _least_ tone it down a little bit? Remember, we're looking for the rest of the Mavericks! How the hell are we gonna find them if you're gonna be swimming in moonshine the whole time?! Honestly! We've been searching from town-to-town since May! And it's DECEMBER! Yeesh..." 

Gulch let out a loud burp before continuing. "Err... well, how do you know that they're all alive? Maybe they died when the fortress exploded..." 

Violen paused in thought. "Well... yeah. That's always a possibility," he humbly admitted. "But then again, we're the Mavericks, right? We always have a plan to execute if we're faced with the destruction of a fortress. And I just have a FEELING that they're alive, you know? An intuition. Something in the back of my mind keeps telling me to push forward, Gulch, and I can deny what my brain tells me to do! I certainly knows a lot more than I do..." 

"Maybe it's a tumor," Gulch said out of the blue. "I remember once, I had a tumor in my Coke that told me to ditch the sugary crap and switch to alcohol. Never went back since, man." 

"...uh...huh," Violen muttered slowly. "Gulch, do you know what a tumor _is_, by any chance?" 

"...yeah. What, you think I'm stupid or somethin'?" 

"No, no, I just - ahh, never mind." The bulky Maverick knew very well that if he were to stretch the conversation further, things could get pretty ugly. Thinking fast, he quickly changed the subject to something less arguable. "So... how much longer do you think it'll take before we reach the next town?" 

"Ahh... not too much longer, I don't think," Gulch said groggily. "Although, I still think it might be easier if we just took the roads aboveground instead of rafting down here..." 

"Well, I'm sorry Gulch, but I've said it once and I'll say it again - I'm not ready to take that kind of risk," Violen stated firmly. "I mean, come on now. The surface area is a deathtrap! We can't be seen up there for too long, or else some Smartass J. Human will realize who we are and rat us out. We can't have that, Gulch!" He huffed a bit as he rowed the raft along. "And, those things aside, this route IS faster. A lot more straightforward. Trust me, if we just keep going, we'll be sure to find-" 

But before Violen could finish his sentence, the entire raft suddenly came to a crashing halt. An audible clanging noise filled the two reploids' eardrums, and both of them went flying every which way; Violen, stunned by the sudden halt, fell flat on his back, the raft - and most of his head - becoming engulfed in the vile sewer water below. Luckily enough for him, the raft managed to hold out and eventually surface, keeping him still a few inches above the polluted mess. Still in state of total shock, Violen barely managed to lift himself back to a sitting position. 

"Wha - what the hell was _that_?" Violen blurted out between breaths, still trying to regain his composure. He was still completely unsure of what had happened before he looked straight above him; not too high up, a faint circle of light shined down on him, reflecting against his faded armor. Right in front the raft, there was a wall blocking the rest of the way, with small metal rungs lined up vertically towards the top. IT didn't take Violen to long to realize that they'd reached their destination... or, at least, somewhere close. 

"Hey, Gulch!" he called out to his friend enthusiastically. "Looks like we've reached the end of the trail! C'mon, we'd better hurry up to the surface, and... err, Gulch?" 

Turning around, Violen was surprised to see that his companion had suddenly vanished from the "safety" of the raft. This would only last for a few seconds, however; before Violen could even as much as look in a different direction to try and find him, he suddenly sprung energetically out of the murky deep, grabbing onto the raft with all his human-given strength and attempting to pull himself back up. The surprised Violen watched as he eventually managed to get his entire body back on the shaky hunk of wood, gasping for air. His entire body was covered in sewage and seaweed. 

"Whew..." he huffed, finally getting himself back to a sitting position. "That was... a pretty big dive I took. My head... it's RINGING..." 

"Well, Christ, man! Don't EVER do that again. You just scared the living hell out of me..." Violen exclaimed, he himself gasping for air as well. "I'm... really not in the mood for surprises today." 

"Okay, okay, chill out..." Gulch grumbled, his face now looking especially disheveled after his plunge into the water. "So... why did we suddenly stop? I thought there was a clear passageway from here on..." 

"Well, then you thought wrong. We've reached a dead end." 

"Dead end? Is that... BAD?" 

"Au contraire, mon ami. Look." He pointed towards the circle of light, and then to the ladder leading towards it. "We've reached an exit, so I'm guessing that we're under the next town right about now." 

Suddenly, the hungover Gulch's face suddenly came alive as he saw what Violen was implying. "...wha... really? We can get out of here now?" 

"For the time being, yeah. C'mon, follow me, and-" 

Without warning, Gulch suddenly sprung out of his sitting positon and grabbed for the rungs of the ladder, knocking Violen off his duff. Still grasping onto the raft for dear life, Violen watched as the energetic Gulch climbed all the way up to the top of the wall, right under the sewer cap. 

"Gulch, WAIT!" Violen yelped out in desperation, clumsily grabbing onto the lowest rung and pulling himself above the shaky raft. "Just what in the name of Zeus do you think you're DOING, man?" 

"It's a NEW TOWN, man!" Gulch proclaimed triumphantly, pushing the sewer cap out of his way and letting even more of the afternoon light seep in. "And when there's a new town, then there HAS to be at least two or three more places that sell liquor. It's the only way I'll get out of this funk, man! I can't stand sobriety anymore..." 

"Oh, Christ on a pancake, Gulch!" Violen called out in response, climbing after his wayward friend. "We can't keep stopping at these liquor stores and taverns all the time! We need to find-" 

But it was too late, and Violen knew it. Gulch had escaped the sewer already, and was undoubtedly roaming the town by now. The bulky Maverick huffed with frustration. 

"Aww... why doesn't anybody EVER listen to what I have to say?!" Violen whined as he approached the surface. "Now that maniac is gonna be strolling all over town, letting his sewage-soaked body infect everybody around him. I swear it, if he drinks himself to death, then I'm selling his body to the highest bidder and using the money to buy a first-class ticket to Bermuda..." 


	4. Take My Glory

**Chapter 3: Take My Glory**

* * *

"You know, X, you haven't been very responsive or talkative lately. What gives?" 

To somebody who didn't really know better, the question would sound more or less like a simple one. But to somebody like X, the two words "what" and "gives" fused together formed the equivalent of a mental punch in the groin. He'd never enjoyed answering it, nor any of it's many forms, and he wasn't exactly thrilled to hear it now, especially in the state he was in. 

"Hey, Glaish... you might want to lay off," another voice chimed in, this one softer than the last. "You know the way X can get. It's probably best that we leave him the way he is." 

"Well, I've DONE that before, Nora," the first voice started again. "Trust me, he can get dangerous if he doesn't get the chance to let his feelings out. I've seen the fruits of his pent-up rage before, and trust me, it's a wrath that none of us want to incur." 

He really hated situations like these. He'd always despised looking like an idiot, especially in front of his friends. So what was he going to do now? Look like a whiny fool and sit there with his head down on that cafeteria table all day, not saying a word? X hated doing it, but there were times when he just couldn't help it... 

"What? Is he asleep, or somethin'?" a third voice interrupted, a little gruffier than the other two. "I mean, honestly. He's been like that for twenty minutes now. I think we should wake him up." 

"Icarus, he ISN'T asleep, okay?" the first voice rebuttaled. "He's just... angry, I think. Or just really, really tired. Or both." 

"It's kind of disturbing, really," the soft second voice began again. "Saddening, even. You think the leg injury is starting to effect his brain somehow...?" 

Now X was starting to get seriously uncomfortable from this chatter. What possessed them to talk about him like that, when he was sitting right in front of them? What could POSSIBLY possess them to think that he wasn't capable of hearing every word they were saying? 

"Nah, it's nothing physical, I reckon," the first voice stated. "This is emotional, no doubt. I'm not sure what it's about, though... maybe if SOMEBODY would get him to say something, THEN we could find out." 

"...well, maybe he can't say anything," the third voice started again, sounding more grim than usual. "Maybe he's dead." 

"He's _not_ dead, Icarus," the second voice scolded. "But, then again, he doesn't seem very alive either." 

This was becoming unbearable for the silent blue Hunter. He didn't know exactly what was keeping him from telling them how he felt, but whatever it was, he was certainly considering disregarding it right about now. Still, he had that nagging feeling that telling them too much would make him feel even worse... 

"Well, let's just say, for the sake of argument, that he's dead," the third voice reasoned. "Is it really that surprising? I mean, he's had to deal with a LOT of stress in his life. The guy's had a decent run - might as well just let him rot in peace, eh?" 

"Er... well, while I admit that he's undergone a lot of stress in the past, I don't think he'd just die for no apparent reason after eating lunch," the first voice said. "Unless, of course, he ate too much tuna again. That overload of mercury might have finally infected his systems." 

"Alright, you know what?" the second voice butted in, sounding desperate. "Why don't we just end this conversation now, okay? So maybe X is dead. Big deal. Let's just leave him here for now, and if there's a problem, the janitors can clean up his remains..." 

Okay - now it was COMPLETELY obvious as to what they were trying to do. Although X really didn't want to give them the satisfaction of waking up, he decided to toss his principles in the wastebasket for now - it just wasn't worth the trouble anymore. Grumbling to himself, he lifted his head up from the table and opened his eyes, immediately halting the annoying chatter of his friends seated around him. Even though the bright cafeteria lights caught him off guard at first, things came into focus very rapidly. Three of his friends, the owners of the voices, were staring at him from their seats, all looking surprised and satisfied at the same time. 

"...well well well. Look who isn't dead!" the owner of the third voice exclaimed, a grey-armored humanoid named Icarus. The sun lightly reflected off of the small, faded-gold gem capped on the middle of his forehead, forcing X to blink a couple times at the unwelcome light. "How are things on your end, buddy?" 

"Urr... hi there," X said groggily, trying his damndest to suppress the rage that had gradually surmounted within him during the past few minutes. So, he pondered, they were STILL joking around with him. How lovely. 

"Good to see that you're awake, and... err, alive, X," said the owner of the second voice, Nora Estin, seated to X's left. She was one of the most prominent members of X's 17th Unit, with mid-length reddish-brown hair and an athletic-yet-slender body. While she sometimes acted timid in social activity, she was still very friendly and personable. "Got worried about you for a minute there." 

"Oh, I'm sure you did," X replied, reeking of dry sarcasm. "So, Glaicer. You got some blatantly phony courtesy to throw my way, too?" 

Rather than reply snidely, 12th Unit Leader Glacier Dragoon just glared at X with narrowed eyes, a look of concern on his face. His form was sculpted to resemble a dragon of sorts, with his elongated snout and teeth-filled mouth, claws on hands and feet, and smallish, green eyes. His cerulean-armored build, however, resembled that of a common humanoid's, as was the popular design among animal reploids. 

"Oh, I see how it is," X said, acknowledging Glacier's piercing stare. "So you're gonna give me the silent treatment. Well, that's just fine with me..." 

"X, WHAT is your problem?" Glacier suddenly barked, trying not to let his voice get too loud. "I mean, seriously. You've been sitting with your head down for almost all of the time we've been in here. You haven't eaten anything, you haven't said anything... I mean, the three of us thought you were DEAD, X. And now that you've been awakened from that 'slumber' of yours, you're acting like an angry old man. Honestly, what's the deal with all this?!" 

Even in X's foggy, diluted state, he still could tell when somebody was trying to get serious with him - and Glacier certainly was. But even with his friend's bold tone, X couldn't bring himself to vent his problems for all to hear - that gut feeling inside of him was still tugging at him, coaxing him to keep his emotions clandestine for the moment. Or was it beause he just didn't have the energy...? 

"I'm just... well..." X stuttered, keeping his voice low. "I'm just... tired, is all." 

"...OH! _I_ know why X is acting upset," Icarus suddenly chimed in, sounding unnaturally cheerful in his discovery. "This has something to do with Zero's scouting mission, doesn't it?" 

A chilling, seemingly infinite silence suddenly encased the four of them; even with the bustling noise of the cafeteria surrounding them, the entire table just seemed to pause in time, allowing Icarus's realization to sink in. X could feel himself shivering - the name "Zero" sent an unpleasant impulse shooting through his body, and it showed. 

"...OH," Nora said, breaking the silent tension among them all. "So this is all about Zero, is it? Now THAT would explain a lot." 

"Right, right, right," Glacier agreed. "He went on that scouting trip on Saturday, right? He's off all week with the Colonel and Iris, and his unit." He looked directly into X's face, which currently displayed a mixture of frustration and defeat. "So, X. THIS is what you're all worked up about, eh?" 

He couldn't close the floodgates now; X was pinned against the wall. Letting out a giant, heaving sigh, he suddenly straigheted his posture a bit and looked right back at his friend. "Alright," he said admittingly. "I know I've been acting weird, and... yeah, Zero has something to do with it. But only PARTIALLY." He made sure to accentuate the word 'partially' as much as he could. "See, Zero's little escapades, while not that bad on their own, have led to more destructive consequences for me in the long run..." 

"Which are?" Icarus pried in his nosiest voice. 

"Hold on! I'm GETTING to that," X scolded. "Listen, I admit that Zero going off on the scouting mission and leaving me here to rot in my own filth does get me a little perturbed. But furthermore, BECAUSE Zero isn't here... I've been given an _alternate_ job from Cain." 

"Oh, THIS should be good," Glacier commented. "Is it a chore?" 

"Might as well be," X groaned. "See, the doc is having me sent to the Repliforce HQ for a few days to stay with General and the others while Zero's away. As he puts it, he's worried about the Repliforce's faith in the Hunter cause, and he wants me to represent the Hunters and give the soldiers a morale boost... or something along those lines." He let out a sigh. "And I just don't feel up to it, really." 

"...well, that doesn't sound all that bad, X," Nora comforted. "I mean, think of it this way. Zero is doing something he enjoys doing - you know, being out in the open, leading missions with friends of his. He's much more action-oriented than you are. You, X, have always been more of a thinker than a fighter - and because of that, you're getting to do something that WON'T involve violence to get the job done. See what I'm getting at?" 

"Yeah, but this is _different_," X quickly rebounded. "This isn't some pissant group of people who really don't know me outside of my battle victories, or a group of elementary kids or something. This is a faction of reploids strongly dominated by a military spirit and Reploidian pride and all that whoo-ah. I'm just... not like that at all. And they happen to resent me for it." 

"Waitaminute. They ALL resent you?" Icarus inquiried. "That's a... little odd. I mean, sure, you're kind of a reserved, peaceful weirdo. And you know, people around you might think of you as a... well, a reserved, peaceful weirdo. But I don't know why anybody would out-and-out resent you for that." 

"Then there's plenty of people in the world that you haven't met yet, Icarus," Glacier butted in, his eyes narrowed. "It isn't too hard for me to imagine people disliking X..." 

"Oh, thanks," X replied sarcastically, shooting his friend a piercing set of dagger eyes. "So I'm COMPLETELY dislikable now?" 

"Err, uh..." Glacier stuttered nervously. "Well, you aren't exactly Johnny B. Benevolent, if you know what I mean." 

"...uhh, yeah. Well, the point is, it isn't EVERYBODY in the Repliforce that resents me," X specified. "I mean, there's still the General, who's always held a pretty high amount of respect for me, which I'm fortunate to have. But most of the other soldiers - especially the Colonel - just look at me at this pacifistic, dried-up hack with no loyalty towards his people. And, believe me, I would MUCH rather help Zero with his mission than try to get a giant grouping of pride-driven reploids to understand MY point of view." 

"Well, what do you want _us_ to do about it, X?" Nora asked with a bit of desperation. "Honestly, I think I speak for both Glacier and Icarus here when I say that watching you go through depression kind of creeps us out. A LOT." 

"Hmm..." X pondered for a second, some memories starting to come back. "Well, now that you mention it, there is ONE thing you guys can do. When Cain was talking to me about the Repliforce visit, I recall him mentioning that I would be able to bring a friend with me. Now, considering that Zero is out of the picture, and the three of you are a few of my closer friends..." 

Before X could even finish, Icarus suddenly leaped from his seat and pointed to a window across from their table. "HEY, LOOK! A BLUEJAY!" he announced with vigor, his voice ringing painfully in the ears of the Hunters seated around him. "You NEVER see those things outdoors at THIS time of year, no siree bob. I'd better, uhh, go photograph it for... uh, my bird photography collection... thing. Yeah." He paused nervously for a second, his arms trembling. "So... BYE!" With that, he quickly sped away from the table and towards the other window, knocking several unwary soldiers to their feet in the process. As a bit of a ruckus ensued among the troops, X just sighed a bit. 

"Well, I have to admit it, he seemed to pull that stunt off pretty well in such short notice," the worn-out blue Hunter acknowledged. He turned his attention back to Nora and Glacier. "So, anyway, since the TWO of you are a couple of my closer friends..." 

Neither Hunter said a word - both of them knew very well what X was implying to both of them, but weren't able to pick up on it as quickly as Icarus had. Instead, they just sat there, dumbly exchanging frightened glances, as if desperately searching eachother's minds for the perfect alibi. At first, it didn't seem like either of them would be quick-witted enough to cut X's sentence off - that is, until Nora finally spoke up. 

"AGH!" she yelped, suddenly clasping onto her left leg. "Aww, jeez... well, there goes my bad leg again! What is this, the fifth time this week?! Wow..." Milking her feigned pain as much as possible, she "tried" to lift herself up from her chair, only to slip and almost fall headfirst to the ground. Luckily, she had grabbed onto the side of the table beforehand. "WHEW!" she exclaimed. "Better watch myself, eh? Heh... well, I'd better get myself down to the infirmary to get this... evened out..." 

"Oh, is that so?" X commented, a look of uncharacteristic sadism on his face. "Well, then maybe you'd like me to help you down there. I mean, it IS a long walk, and you wouldn't want to go tumbling down 3 flights of stairs, would you?" 

"Wha-WHAT? Oh, oh no! Don't worry about that!" Nora replied desperately, trying her best to back away from the table while still staying true to her pained limb. "I, uh... can handle myself. Yeah. Well, er... I guess I'd better... go, and... BYE." Suddenly breaking "character", the Huntress fleetingly ignored her act and ran full-speed in the other direction, making like Icarus by knocking even more poor Hunters to the ground. X and Glacier just stared, flabbergasted. 

"Hmm... well, that was a little weak, eh?" X commented snidely. "Now, Glacier..." 

_Oh, GREAT! Now I've gotta fend X off on my own..._ Glacier mentally panicked, trying his best to not let the awkwardness of the situation get to him. But it was a futile struggle - his mind had been wiped clean of all possible exuses, and the fear of the situation froze him right in his seat. X was talking, it was obvious - his mouth was moving. But his mind was so occupied trying to find a way out of his current Hell, he couldn't comprehend a word... 

"So, Glaish, since everybody else chickened out..." X was began to finish, much to Glacier's dismay. But he wouldn't go down without a fight. 

"Well, err... actually, X..." Glacier finally interrupted, his voice sounding shaky and horrifically desperate. "I'd love to go, really. But there's a... well, a... thing, that..." 

"Yeah?" X broke in, giving him a piercing stare. 

Glacier gulped. "Uhh... well, this thing is... REALLY important. Actually, it's SO important, that that I'm not even sure I'll be able to stay a Hunter if I don't attend it. Yeah. It's a, uhh... protest march..." 

"Oh! A PROTEST march," X butted in, his stare becoming more and more unnerving to the already broken Glacier. "What about?" 

"Oh... what about?" Glacier stuttered, trying to keep his eyes turned away from X's. "Ah, it's, uh... protesting the usage of cow... eyes... in reploid armor. Yeah." He paused for a moment - now X's sadistic, narrow-eyed stare was REALLY starting to creep him out. Although he hated admitting it, it was only a matter of time before he cracked under the pressure... 

"Oh, wow. Sounds like a noble cause," X continued, feigning interest. "So, how long is it gonna last?" 

"Uh... well, we're..." Glacier said, his voice starting to break up. X knew VERY well that he was making all this crap up - there was NO way he would get away with this charade now. "It'll be... a week or so... and, uh... we might be out for another... two... uh... days, because..." 

It was over. Glacier Dragoon was abandoned, frightened, and creatively shot to hell - three factors that sealed his fate. Before he could say another word, he just paused for a moment, looking white with fear, searching his mind for something - ANYTHING - he could use to back up his lousy alibi. But it was hopeless, he realized, scratching his claws angrily on the hardwood cafeteria table and clenching his teeth. 

"...ALRIGHT!" the blue dragon almost shouted, staring at X with disgraced eyes. "You win, okay?! I'll GO with you." He huffed a little bit. "When is this thing again?" 

"Wednesday," X reminded him, a smile of triumph imprinted on his formerly stolid face. "Be ready by noon. And don't worry, you won't have to say anything or do anything important there - you'll mostly just be my lackey for the trip." 

"...hmm. Well, I guess that's good, considering that I hate public speaking..." he admitted, scratching at his snout. "But if I'm going to go on this thing, I want you to promise me something. If there's any kind of hazing, or burning, or bombing, or even _CEREMONIAL LYNCHING,_ it's going to be directed all at YOU. Okay? You'll take the brunt of it all, and I'll just sit on the sidelines scarfing down Cheetos. Sound good?" 

X raised his eyebrows. "Honestly, I don't think you really have anything to worry about," he bitterly reassured him. "Trust me, if things get down to the wire, it'll be ME that gets ceremonially lynched. No offense, but I'd be surprised if anybody in the Repliforce actually knew who you were." 

Glacier nodded. "Nice point," he said, stretching his arms out a bit. "This'll be _such_ a fun trip." 

* * *

Being a night watchman isn't a very rewarding job, nor an exciting one. While some might consider the job dangerous and very frightening, those who have actually experienced it would probably say otherwise; unless the area that's being guarded is really important and popular, the entire job mostly consists of standing outside in the cold all night trying to find ways of amusing yourself. Now, to some people, this job is relatively easy considering that you get to lounge around as much as you want. To others, it's incredibly boring. 

But to a veteran Maverick Hunter like Zero... well, he was indifferent about the whole thing. But then again, he wasn't outside in the cold, and he wasn't standing up. So that made his life much easier. 

Standing around outside was stupid, anyway... at least, in Zero's eyes. It was way too obvious. If somebody just came waltzing over to some door and saw that a guard was there, would they even TRY to get in? Probably not. Instead, they'd just walk away for a time, secretly vowing to strike once again. And, to Zero, that didn't solve the problem in the slightest. No, the only way to make sure that this person wouldn't be able to strike again would be to catch them in the act as soon as possible. Hide in the shadows and watch them do something they shouldn't be doing - and then LEAP at them, surprise them, capture them, convict them. It was easy. 

And, all things considered, it was a helluva lot more fun. Zero would never deny that. What was the fault in taking pleasure in one's work? 

But the crimson-armored hothead hadn't exactly chosen to do this job; in reality, it really had been more of a request by the Colonel of the Repliforce. He couldn't find any of his own soldiers willing to guard a small, abandoned Maverick weapon storage area, so he specifically asked Zero to take care of it. And, being Colonel's friend and everything, he accepted without too much hesitation. Not like he had much else to do that night besides play solitaire or something... all of the soldiers tended to go to sleep pretty early. Must've been some Repliforce policy thing, Zero figured. 

So there he was, sitting alone in a small cave-like area filled with Maverick weapon crates, his long blonde ponytail ruffled against the walls as as he hid behind one of the larger crates. The area was completely devoid of any light whatsoever - which in all honesty didn't bother Zero as much as he thought it would, even after sitting there for almost two hours now. He had brought a lamp, but he had decided not to use it. Darkness wasn't that tough to handle. 

"Well... nothing like some nice peace and quiet, eh?" the Hunter playfully noted, his voice echoing softly throughout the cave. Unfortunately enough, Zero really hadn't brought much to entertain himself with during this overnight charade; well, except for his trusty lightsaber, which he had a tendency to carry around wherever he went. But something like a lightsaber was really only fun to swing around during training or something - it would cause a little too much distraction in a dank place like that. The only thing Zero could think of that would entertain him would be somebody sneaking in - but Zero knew that couldn't happen, considering how disciplined and orderly the Repliforce soldiers were. The Crimson Hunter wouldn't deny that for a second... 

...that is, until he heard a foreign, audible tapping noise from the far end of the cave. 

At first, he really wasn't sure of what it was, or exactly who was generating it. But it was loud enough to arouse suspicion in Zero - one thing was for sure, it didn't sound like a natural kind of tapping at all. As it resonated throughout the cave's walls, Zero noted that it sounded almost metallic, as if it came from a reploid's boot... and there it was again, louder and closer this time. The Crimson Hunter could definitely sense a presence in the room this time around - although there weren't many other signals to indicate it, he had the uncanny ability to percept another person's presence. But was it safe to act on this yet...? 

Probably not, Zero figured, keeping all his five senses acute in order to figure out what was transpiring behind the large weapons crate he used as his hiding spot. It wasn't long before the same metallic tapping sound ensued once again - it approached faster this time, but still remained slow; this person must have been making sure the coast was clear, Zero gathered. His estimates were suddenly confirmed when finally a soft voice was heard. "Alright, looks like the area's unguarded for now," it murmured, barely receivable by Zero's ears. "C'mon!" 

"Hold on, hold on..." a second voice replied, in a much louder whisper than the first; this voice sounded much more feminine than the last one, too. "I'm sorry, but you KNOW I don't like being here at this hour." 

Zero rubbed his chin a little bit. So there were _two_ people coming in now? Hmm... 

"Please, Lucinda, could we NOT argue this right now?" said the first more-masculine voice, his tone noticably louder this time around. "C'mon, all I'm gonna do is take some pictures. It's my hobby! Photography kicks so much ass." 

"Oh, whatever..." the female voice countered. "Listen, just take your stupid pictures and let's get the hell out of this place, okay?!" 

"Okay, I DON'T need that attitude," the male barked, losing his temper. "Just _what_ is your problem?!" 

_Oh jeez, don't wanna get involved in this..._ Zero mentally noted. Deciding to take a bit of a risk anyway, the Crimson Hunter finally poked his head above the top of his hiding crate to take a look at the scene - and was very surprised at what he saw. In the middle of the cave were two Repliforce soldiers - Lucinda, a thin female reploid with violet-hued armor and very long, light-blonde hair, and Jax, a male reploid with maroon armor and some reddish hair sticking out from underneath his helmet. Both were friends of Zero's, and close friends with eachother... most people had the idea that they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was kind of hard to determine solid relationships between machines. It was odd, though - from the way they carried on, Zero had predicted that they were a married human couple, bickering over some stupid thing that happened during their vacation. He looked on intently, making sure not to let himself be seen or heard. 

"Jax, my PROBLEM is that I can't STAND all of this anymore!" Lucinda yelled, almost dropping the small lamp that served as their only source of light. "Listen, hobbies don't usually annoy me this much, but you're taking things to far. If you wanna go venturing into some closed-off area to take pretty little pictures, then do it YOURSELF next time, okay? I've got better things to do with my time..." 

"Better things? HAH! That's a good one," Jax said snidely, laughing to himself a bit. "What in blazes to do you do over at the Repliforce camp at night that's so important?" 

"I DO PLENTY!" Lucinda screeched. "It's a lot more constructive that hanging around in a cave with _you_ all day, I'll tell you that right now. And ANOTHER thing..." 

Zero had decided to stop listening for a time; this was getting out of hand, and he was going to personally put an end to it. Although usually Zero wasn't one to horn in on other people's affairs, these two were trespassing in the area, and REALLY were getting on his nerves to boot. Making sure to make as little noise as he possibly could, the agile Hunter shifted slowly away from his crate, ducking his head. Moving behind a much larger stack of crates next to his original one, he heard a little more of the conversation as it progressed. 

"...and it's dangerous here, too!" Lucinda continued, her voice carrying throughout the entire cave. "You pulled me into this before I could even grab a weapon or SOMETHING to protect us a little. Say we get ambushed - what're you gonna use to fight back, a Polaroid?!" 

_No weapons, eh?_ Zero pondered as he began to climb the large stack of crates, making sure not to knock any of them down. _Well then, this'll be a LOT easier than I expected._

"Hey, remember who you're talking to!" Jax yelled. "I may not look like much, but you know well that I'm one kick-ass martial artist. If anybody attacks, I'll just choke them to death with my vice-like kung fu grip." 

Zero was practically in position already, having finally reached the top of the crate stack. He had a full-range view of the cave now - Lucinda and Jax were positioned right in the middle of his view, the light from their lantern forming a circular ring around them. He knew exactly what he'd do; with as much energy as he could muster, the Crimson Slayer would leap heroically from the crates, sailing over the two Repliforce soldiers and landing right in front of the cave's entrance. This would prevent the two from trying to escape, allowing Zero to give them a good talking to. Or something along those lines. 

"Well, here goes nuthin'," Zero whispered to himself, bending his legs and preparing for takeoff. A sly smile spread across his face as he leapt powerfully into the air... 

...and, right around then, was when he felt the snag. Barely moments after fleeing his post, the cocky Hunter's right foot scraped against part of the top crate, causing Zero to completely lose his composure. Panicking, he suddenly realized that there was nowhere to go but straight down... 

Lucinda and Jax both heard it - a desperate cry for help, followed by a deafening _THUD!_ almost right next to them. They were startled as a sizable cloud of dust met their senses, blurring their vision and causing them to cough a little bit. Lucinda, trying her best to get a better look at the scene, was the first of the two to catch a glimpse at who (or what) had taken such a nasty fall. 

She blinked. "Commander Zero? Is that you?" 

"...uhh..." the fallen reploid moaned; Zero's entire body lay face-down on the ground, his arms and legs spread out. His armor was completely tarnished with cracks and dust, and his face was embedded in the soil. Despite these qualities, however, it wasn't hard for Lucinda and Jax to identify their friend - they could easily distinguish his lightsaber sheath and long, blonde ponytail from their point of view. 

"...Zero?! Oh, great!" Jax panicked, looking on nervously at the accomplished Hunter's twitching body. "What's HE doing here?! Oh, jeez, now we're gonna get busted for sure... just my luck!" 

"Jax, would you PLEASE stop worrying about that for now?" Lucinda scolded. "The guy just took a pretty bad spill, okay? We'd better help him out, or else the situation's gonna get worse before it gets better." She looked back to the Hunter commander, who appeared to be struggling to pick himself back up. "Uh... you need any help, Commander?" 

"...uhnnn..." Zero groaned again, this time sounding a little louder than before. After a brief struggle, he managed to lift his head off of the ground, as well as most of his torso "No... I'm okay... I think. Probably obliterated half of my brain, but dems the breaks they be," he said as he sluggishly lifted himself to his feet, dust particles falling off of various parts of his tattered armor. Lucinda and Jax looked a bit surprised as they watched on - after a very painful-sounding fall, Zero didn't seem to be half as damaged or jittered as they thought he would be due to his surprisingly rapid recovery. 

"Zero, you're SURE you don't need any help there?" Lucinda pressed on. "I mean... are you okay?" 

The Crimson Hunter, his face greyed from dust, shrugged a bit. "Hmm... that's a good question," he replied groggily. "I guess I'm alright, but honestly, I'm feeling a little less than perfect. I mean, honestly, a fall like that is never a good thing for anybody. Ever." Cracking his neck a bit, he directed his attention to the large stack of crates behind him. "But hey, at least I was lucky enough not to knock down any of these crates with me, eh? Otherwise, I REALLY would've been squashed. Jeez." 

"Uh, sir?" Jax chimed in, shaking a bit. "If you, uh, don't mind my asking, WHY exactly are you here? I thought you were back at the base." 

Zero huffed a little bit, and odd smirk forming on his face. "Why am _I_ here? Heh, that's a good one," he said. "Maybe I should be asking the two of YOU the same question, eh? I'm the night watchman here for now, and I know for a fact that the two of you aren't supposed to be here at this hour." 

"Commander, I know it might sound dumb, but this wasn't my idea at all. It was HIS." Lucinda pointed damningly at her friend, who immediately went white with fear from the accusation. "I was having a decent time back at the base area until he barged in and dragged me, without ANY explanation why, to this dingy little cave. THEN he told me why." 

"Listen, I'd just found this place out, okay?!" Jax rebuttled, trying to salvage his dignity just a little bit. "It's really cool in here, with all this old Maverick junk. I was about to take some photos of it all, but then I remembered that you would probably wanna see all this crap too, so..." He shrugged. "I dunno! It was just for fun, overall. And I never expected there to be any security, let alone somebody like you, Zero..." 

"Alright, alright!" Zero interrupted, waving his arms to-and-fro. "I've heard everything already, trust me. Your voices were so damned loud, it was kind of impossible NOT to." He brushed a few more specks of dust off of his double-pointed helmet. "But seriously, guys. I really don't care who started it, or whatever - you shouldn't be hanging around here at all. And you DEFINITELY shouldn't take pictures - they could start spreading around and then who knows what would happen then." 

"Err, well..." Jax said softly. "I was gonna keep them to myself..." 

"Well, nevertheless, it ain't safe in here," Zero instructed. Glancing down, he bent over to pick up a small rock from the ground. "Here, let me show ya." Looking over to a small crate on the far side of the room, he took the rock at hurled it lightly towards it. Almost immediately on impact, the small box exploded with a small yet powerful-seeming flash of light. 

"HOLEE!" Lucinda shouted, the ground below her feet rumbling a bit. She and Jax looked on as the smoke cleared, which revealed a sizable hole in part of the cave wall. The two Repliforce soldiers looked on with wideeyes, while Zero smirked. 

"See that?" he pointed out. "Not very stable around here, nuh-uh. Could EASILY get yourself killed if you do something stupid, right?" The cocky Hunter wiped his hands together. "So, now, what to do..." 

"Commander? You aren't gonna mention any of this to the Colonel, are you?" Jax asked the Hunter, sounding plainly unnerved. "Because if you did, well... we wouldn't be treated very well, if you know what I mean." 

"Hm... well, I'm not sure," Zero admitted, furrowing his brow. "Now, the Colonel's a good guy, but he's just very prideful and strict. So I can understand where you're coming from there. But on the other hand, it's my duty to let Colonel know about any disturbances around here. I wouldn't wanna betray his confidence or anything." 

"Please, Zero? Just this once," Lucinda begged. "From now on, I'll PERSONALLY make sure something like this doesn't end up happening again. Trust me." Making her message clear, she elbowed her Jax in the arm, causing him to recoil a bit from the pain. 

"Yeah..." Jax said woefully. "Whatever she said." 

Zero, still pondering what he should do, scratched the back of his head a bit. "Alright, tell you what," he began. "The two of you are friends of mine, and I know both of you to be good people. So I'll give you the benefit of a doubt and say that you were just curious enough to check this place out. But let's make a deal first, okay?" He cracked his fingers. "Now then... I won't say a word to Colonel about this, but ONLY if you keep quiet about that fall I just had. I have a reputation to maintain, you know. Comprendes?" 

The two both eagerly nodded in unison. "No problem." 

"Okay, then. It's a deal," the Crimson Hunter finalized, still wiping some leftover dust particles out of his hair. "Now, listen... I would definitely say that the two of you should get the hell out of this place as soon as you can. I'm a little worried that that small explosion thinger I set off could've cause some commotion back at the base... but eh, it's not terribly likely. Security around there isn't quite as tight as you may think." 

"Don't worry, we'll be quiet," Lucinda assured him, already starting for the exit. 

"Yeah, we will..." Jax agreed with humility, turning around to follow his friend. "Thanks, Zero." 

"Hey, no prob," Zero said, starting to walk back towards his post. "Just hurry up, alright? The Colonel might catch you sneaking back in if you're too slow. And get some sleep, too - we've got more scouting early in the morning tomorrow. I think he wants us up at around four, or something." 

"Four-thirty," Lucinda corrected him. "And trust me, we'll be awake. We really don't sleep THAT much. Have a good night." 

"You too," Zero said with finality, watching as their two forms walked out of the cave and into the darkness of the night, their lantern as their only guide. Again, the entire area around Zero was cold and dismal, with nothing visible at all. Taking solace in his own mind, the Crimson Hunter remembered the explosion he had set off not to long ago- 

_Mini-mines,_ he recalled, smirking. _Damn, those things work pretty good! 'Twas enough to make the two of them think this place was filled with explosives... when, actually, there's nuthin' in here but dried-up Maverick canteens. Deception can be so fun._

Still energetic but worn out from the fall, Zero first considered taking a nap back at his little nook - he figured it wouldn't hurt, since he really couldn't imagine anybody else jumping inside the cave at this hour. But that was a little too boring for him; he wanted to do something different, but still relaxing. Staring outside, he noticed the stars were out - shrugging, he decided to take a look at them for a little while. The cold didn't bother him, after all, and it would be nice to get out for some time. He'd forgotten the last time he'd actually taken time to stare at those things, anyway... 


	5. Dream Beneath the Desert Sky

**Chapter 4: Dream Beneath the Desert Sky**

* * *

"Shouldn't be cold in the desert, shouldn't be cold in the desert, SHOULD NOT BE COLD IN THE DESERT, GODDAMNIT ALL." 

"Corsair, shut up," a low voice broke in. "I swear to God, if you say that again, I'll break you're friggin' neck. And you know I could." 

A disgruntled and shivering Corsair, wrapped in an overcoat, huffed at his friend's comments. "Well, jeez, I'm _so_ sorry, Ledge. You know, there are some people in this world who aren't as tolerant to the cold as you are, okay? I just happen to be one of them, and thus, I can bitch all I want! BITCH BITCHITY BITCH BITCHEROO." 

"...I swear it, you're gonna make me lose it," replied Ledge Berkes, a relatively well-built dark-skinned man with jet black hair. Unlike Corsair, he wore a very light jacket, and wasn't shivering a bit. "You just never stop talking, do you? It's AMAZING anybody could tolerate you for more than two seconds, let alone somebody like Mercutio..." 

"Hey, Mercutio chooses his allies well! I'm a prime example of that," Corsair said on his behalf. "C'mon, I've been doing this for a year now. Mercush obviously must value me if I've been around here as long as that." 

"Which is what confuses me," Ledge stated. "From what I can see, you really don't have any kind of unique, outstanding abilities at all. I mean, most soldiers I meet have at least SOMETHING... but you, on the other hand, are just one giant enigma. The only thing I've seen you do masterfully is complain." 

"Hey, it's an acquired skill," Corsair admitted sarcastically. "A skill which I think I'll put do some good use now! _Where in the ding-dong-diddly-hell is Mercutio?!_ It's FREEZING out here, for Chrissakes." 

"Pshh... been here a year, and can't even handle a little wind chill..." Ledge muttered. "You know, we're hardly even into the desert anyway. This campout here is just at the very beginning of it, at best. We've still got a ways to go." 

Ledge was right; he and Corsair had set up camp near the very edge of Terencse Desert, relatively close to the city itself. Their only means of shelter were two small tents that they had assembled the night before, albeit shoddily constructed, and their surroundings seemed to stretch out into nothingness. The desert sky was covered in an unwelcoming shade of grey, and the overall temperature was relatively low, even for winter. 

"Great, that's just great," Corsair muttered sarcastically. "I can't believe it. He's ditched us, hasn't he?" 

"He hasn't ditched us, you moron!" Ledge exclaimed angrily, his eyes narrowed. "You're getting delirious... the cold air must be getting to your brain. If you'd just calm down for a few minutes, then..." 

"Well, for the love of Zeus, how long have we been waiting here for?" Corsair interrupted, flailing his arms. "You've got a watch, not me - what time is it?" 

Ledge, in a huff, pulled back his left sleeve and observed his watch. "9:30 A.M.," he said. "It's a little fast, but that's probably close enough." 

"Okay, and when did Mercutio end up leaving?" Corsair inquired. 

"Er... I think it was around 7," Ledge admitted. 

"Well well well then. 2 and a half hours," the blonde mercenary concluded. "Lovely. And I wonder when he'll get here? What would you guess, Ledge - seven, eight more hours?! I wouldn't be surprised." 

"Good God, man, this pessimism of yours isn't helping the situation at all, okay?" Ledge barked. "I'm really, REALLY getting sick of you. We've been here for over two hours and it's been nothing but 'Bitch complain nag nag cold cold whine whine Mercutio blah blah bullcrap'. Listen, I've been with Mercutio longer than you have, alright? I know the way he is - and if there's one thing he admires most in a person, it's patience. Which is why I'm so amazed that he's letting you follow him, considering that you're probably the living antithesis of that virtue. But that aside - listen to me now - Mercutio WILL be here, and until then, I want you to SHUT YOUR FREAKIN' MOUTH and have a little faith. Otherwise, I'll shove my fist so far into it, it'll give you an oral enema. Got that?" 

Corsair, still shuddering from the cold, shot his comrade a piercing stare. Unable to counter his words, he humbly shuffled away, his shoulders hunched over and his overcoat dragging along behind him. He didn't bother looking back at Ledge. 

"Fine then," Corsair muttered. "I'm taking a nap. Lemme know when that dark-haired weirdo comes back." 

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Ledge called, advancing towards his crestfallen associate. "Nap? Who do you think you are?! Get back over here, NOW." 

"Hey, I'm not the guy who can't stand my company, okay?!" Corsair yelled, yanking open his tent flaps. "You don't want any more of my bitching? Fine, then! You can wait by yourself. I could care less." 

"That's not the point, Corsair!" Ledge bellowed, weary from the constant arguing. "Listen, Mercutio ordered BOTH of us to stand out here and keep watch. Now, last I check, Mercutio's the guy with the authority in this group, not me. So I'm not gonna sit around and let you disobey him. _Get out here._" 

"MAKE ME!" Corsair shouted childishly, sticking his head out of his tent and then rapidly pulling it back in. 

"Alright then, FINE!" Ledge yelled with finality. "You wanna be a whiny little baby, then be my guest! Stay in there as long as you want. But you remember this - once Mercutio DOES get here, I'm gonna tell him everything that you've been doing since he's been gone. Then you'll have to deal with HIM." 

"SCREW HIM!" Corsair screeched. "He's got nothing on me! And furthermore, he isn't coming back! It's hopeless!" 

"Grrr... oh, that is _it_," Ledge muttered maliciously, rolling up his sleeves and approaching the tent. "This is gonna end NOW. If you don't get out of there this instant, I'm gonna RIP THAT STUPID TENT APART!" 

"...now, Ledge, you know that it isn't smart to think like that. You're going to end up hurting yourself over anybody else." 

A voice from behind. Ledge, completely caught off guard, swiftly turned around to face the figure behind him. Unsure of his footing, he mistakably wrapped his feet around each other, causing him to fall less-than-gracefully into the sand. A bit shaken but not overly fazed, he managed to lift his body upwards partially to get a glimpse at this stranger - a dark haired man, mid-height, and wearing brownish boots and a grey cloak similar to his own. His face seemed pale, kind of cold; even from Ledge's distorted point of view, it wasn't hard to determine who it was. 

"Wa-wait..." he muttered between breaths. "Mer... Mercutio? Is that you?" 

"Here," the cloaked man offered, extending his arm. "Get up." 

Ledge, his eyes widened with shock, reluctantly grabbed the man's hand. "Sir, my apologies! I had no idea that you were coming back so soon," he said humbly while Mercutio swiftly lifted him to his feet. A bit nervous, Ledge dusted the sand off of his exterior and looked his boss straight in the eyes. Mercutio, his own greenish-tinted eyes dark and callous, looked straight back. 

"Mercutio... good to see you again!" Ledge suddenly beamed, ignoring his downtrodden state for a few seconds. "Erm, if you don't mind my asking, how did you get here without me seeing you over the horizon, or something? Seems like you just... appeared." 

"Oh, don't be so amazed, Ledge," he snipped in his casual, almost British-sounding voice, raising his eyebrows. "My techniques aren't any of your business, for the time. And you knew I was going to be here eventually. I told you myself, isn't that right?" 

"Yes, you did, sir," Ledge agreed, catching his breath. "And trust me, I did believe you. Just that things were getting a little out of hand around here, and..." 

"Well, that's good," Mercutio interrupted, ignoring Ledge's latter comment. "Remember, Ledge, I don't have use for infidelity. It just... bothers me, when people begin to show tendencies of it." 

"Yes, I know that very well, sir," Ledge said obediently, the previous anger he had so openly expressed before now gone with the wind. "Trust me, I've been as trusting as I could be while you were gone... but, unfortunately, there's been another who hasn't exactly followed that example." 

Mercutio raised his eyebrows once again, concern present on his face. "Hmm?" 

"See, sir, I'm usually not one to name names," he reasoned, adjusting his posture. "But for all the time I've been here, Corsair has been a consistent problem. It's just incredible the way he never, EVER stops complaining about everything that ever happens to him. Ever." 

"Corsair..." Mercutio repeated silently to himself, looking around the barren desert area. "He's supposed to be out here." 

"That's right - and he _isn't_," Ledge pointed out damningly. "He's just been completely disobedient the entire time, it just drove me INSANE. When I finally told him to shut up, he stormed off to his tent and sealed himself in, as if he was a 4-year-old and I took away his desert privileges or something. And he isn't coming out; he's only shot insults at me the entire time. He's impossible to reason with, sir! I almost had to use physical violence, but luckily enough, you arrived just before I had to resort to that. I really didn't want to, Mercutio, but..." 

"Alright, Ledge, you've said enough," Mercutio interrupted again, his eyes directed at the sand for no apparent reason. "Calm yourself. I dislike the way you're getting so worked up over all of this, when it can be so easily solved." 

"Easily solved?!" Ledge exclaimed, his rage starting to surface again. "Sir, with all due respect, that boy is just beyond all hope. We can't just wave a magic wand to make him normal, okay? That's just not possible. No offense, but I'm _still_ confused as to why he needs to be with us. If anything, he belongs in a McDonalds somewhere - if he weren't fired immediately, that is, for cussing out half the customers." 

"See? This is what I'm talking about," Mercutio noted calmly, looking straight at his associate now. "You acting like this isn't going to improve the situation at all, is it?" 

"Well... no, I guess not," Ledge admitted, a melancholy tone entering his voice. "But sir, I just can't take this anymore, okay? That's all I have to say. If you want to take care of that boy, feel free to. I'm just going to stay out of it all." 

"That was my intention," Mercutio said smugly, a deceptive smile covering his face. "I'll take care of it... but you remember one thing - don't take such a patronizing tone to me next time. Otherwise, there will be serious consequences." 

Ledge gulped at the thought, but tried his best not let his worry show. "Yes... of course, sir. My apologies, won't happen again." With that, he sidestepped out of the cloaked man's way, giving him a full view of Corsair's tent. 

"Hmm. Good then," Mercutio said in response to Ledge's comments. "Don't worry, this will only take a minute or so." 

"Well, if you say so." 

Mercutio acknowledged his ally with a nod before walking hastily towards the tent, sitting only a few feet away. Ever since Mercutio had arrived, Corsair hadn't said a word; Ledge figured that he had just become frozen with fear, or something. That was understandable, though; Mercutio hated cowardice and infidelity, and Corsair was reeking of it at the moment. Although it didn't seem like it, Mercutio was a definite force to be reckoned with when he was pissed. Ledge knew this all too well. 

It wasn't very long before Mercutio had dragged his feet long enough to reach Corsair's dormant tent. At first, he didn't say a word, but rather stood as still as a statue; Ledge figured that he could have been waiting for Corsair to say something, but he quickly dashed that, reminding himself that Mercutio wasn't one to wait. 

"Corsair," he said firmly, still not making a move. "Come out." 

It was a very simple command, but it definitely meant a lot at this point. Even so, it yielded no response; the greenish tent remained still, and not a peep resonated from it. This didn't phase Mercutio one bit; he simply continued to stare at the poorly-assembled thing with dark, indifferent eyes. 

"Well then," he concluded. "You don't want to come out... that's obvious now, I see. But I assure you, Corsair; the longer you stay in there, the worse things will be for you in the long run. As such, I would _strongly_ advise you to give this up right now. For your sake, and mine." 

_Logic. That'll never work with HIM._ Ledge mentally noted; Mercutio may have been a good, convincing speaker, but Corsair was still just a hopeless child - there was no way of getting through to those types. And, so far, Ledge was right on the money; after Mercutio's last comment, the tent still lay silent, without any noise or movement coming from it. As much as he enjoyed watching Corsair getting his comeuppance, Ledge couldn't shake a bad feeling in his stomach; he knew this could easily get ugly. 

But still, despite the fact that he wasn't being listened to, Mercutio still seemed calm and cool about the situation. It was obvious that his patience was starting to wear thin, though; this time around, he responded with an audible grunt, and wiped a few beads of sweat off of his face. 

"Alright then, Corsair. Listen here," Mercutio called. "Since you are required to respond to me when called, I will now be forced to conclude that there is nobody in this tent here. So as a result, on the count of three, I will proceed to kick this thing into oblivion. If you ARE in there, then you will be severely injured, I can assure you. So - one..." 

_No way._ Ledge wouldn't believe it - he knew Corsair was a stubborn idiot, but would he really be stupid enough to not give into Mercutio after a third calling, AND a threat to give him a solid kick in the face? That definitely wouldn't work out well. But, then again, Corsair probably WAS stupid and stubborn enough to stay put in that thing, as far as Ledge knew. 

"Two..." 

Ledge watched as Mercutio began pull his right leg slowly backwards, positioning himself for the attack. This wouldn't be pretty; a kick in the face was never a good thing, but from Mercutio, it was a hundred times worse than usual. Corsair knew this, and he STILL wasn't giving it up? It was just unbelievable now. _There's GOTTA be some loophole to this,_ Ledge noted, scrambling to think of what could be wrong... 

"THREE!" Mercutio shouted, clouding Ledge's thoughts. Before he knew it, Mercutio had let fly a powerful foot-thrust into the bottom of the tent, sending it far across the desert. Ledge looked on in amazement as he watched it hurdle into Kingdom Come, random pieces of Corsair's only shelter littering the desert floor during its non-stop flight. Eventually, a faint _CRASH!_ sound could be heard somewhere in the distance, indicating that the tent hadn't had a very comfortable landing, to say the least. Ledge waiting anxiously for something big to happen... 

...but nothing did. Mercutio still didn't move. He stood just as still as he did before, not making any kind of movement whatsoever, staring down at the sand. Ledge, completely unsure if Corsair had been in that tent or not, finally decided to take part in this; a bit nervous, he dashed as fast as he possibly could towards where Mercutio was standing, stumbling a bit along the way because of his desperation. 

"Sir!" he belted out, stopping beside him to catch his breath. "what's going-" 

But then he saw; in the space where the tent had been, there was nothing. All that was left were some irregular clumps of sand, undoubtedly the result of Mercutio's sudden kick. Amazed, Ledge rapidly looked back from the empty sand to his boss and back again, completely confused. Looking back at his mentor's face, however, he noticed something odd; Mercutio was smiling. Smiling...? 

"Mercutio!" Ledge exclaimed. "Where... where's Cor..." 

"Ledge, you obviously aren't very observant, are you?" Mercutio said confidently, somehow ignoring the fact that Corsair had disappeared. "I thought I'd always told you to try and look beyond the surface of things, right?" 

"Wha? What does THAT have to do with any-" 

Before Ledge could finish, Mercutio suddenly kneeled down in front of the clump of sand where the tent used to stand, a smirk still implanted on his face. Quickly, he shot his right arm into the sand, as if searching for something under the desert floor. Ledge just watched in a completely befuddled state until, after only a few seconds, Mercutio uncovered something; pulling his arm up slowly and smiling from ear to ear, he lifted out the frightened, thin body of Corsair, covered in sand and trembling. 

"Beyond the surface, Ledge..." Mercutio said smugly, dropping Corsair to the ground with an audible THUD. "Keep that in mind." 

"Uh, right," Ledge replied weakly, still in shock at what he was seeing. Corsair, whimpering a bit while on the ground, curled himself up into a fetal position as if trying to protect himself from some incoming onslaught. 

Mercutio, a look of severity replacing his smile, directed his attention back to Corsair. "Okay now. Get up, Corsair." 

"Yes... Mercush..." the blonde soldier whimpered, slowly picking himself up and still trembling. His face was extremely pale, and his eyes were unnaturally wide. "I'm really, really, sorry! It was just... scary... I thought that Ledge was gonna kill me... then you came, and..." 

"Oh, don't start with that cock-and-bull story again, Corsair!" Ledge scolded, finding his temper once again. "You don't deserve any pity, and you damn well know it. You're just a selfish coward. Mercutio and I are just appalled at your actions - right, sir?" 

He looked to Mercutio, who still stood as rigid as a statue, his cold eyes fixated on Corsair's feeble form. Ledge was expecting his superior to punish the young boy to the full extent of his power; he did, after all, display an act of stark infidelity. But that never happened; rather, Ledge was surprised to see a smirk form on Mercutio's usually stolid face. 

"Burying yourself in the sand, eh?" he questioned, almost taking amusement out of the situation. "Can't say it's the best method of hiding yourself, not by a long shot. Not only is it easy to discover, but it's not very clean, is it? You should've run away, or something - or, at LEAST, have buried yourself deeper. You've been with me for over a year now... I expect better from you." 

"Yea - wha?!" Ledge said, looking completely stunned. "Err, sir? I really think you should-" 

"Now then, it's time to focus on more pressing matters," Mercutio interrupted calmly, turning his back on the two of them. "I suppose the two of you have been wondering where I've been all this time, correct?" 

"But sir!" Ledge prattled on, amazed at his boss's attitude. "You saw what the boy did - don't you think you should be a little more-" 

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time, Ledge," Mercutio said poisonously, shooting dagger eyes at his comrade. "I said, _we are moving on to more pressing matters_. Must I make it any clearer?" 

Ledge was mortified; his face was contorted into this hybrid of furious and shocked expressions, while his body was shaking and his lips were constantly moving, trying to form words but failing miserably. He looked back at Corsair, who seemed to have the same look of shock that he did but obviously seemed much less angry. How could Mercutio possibly be so lenient...? 

"Uhm... yes, sir," Ledge muttered in defeat, knowing that arguing further with his boss wouldn't be the smartest choice. "More pressing matters, of course. Were you able to find the desert fortress anywhere?" 

Mercutio smirked. "Well, there's really no reason for me to find the desert fortress, is there? It isn't _lost_." He chuckled awkwardly to himself. "No, I've known where the desert fortress has been for a long time. The reason we're here is to simply reach it, not find it." 

"I... see," Ledge lied. "Well, did you REACH it, then?" 

"No, that goal is set out for all of us, not just me alone." 

"Well, then why where you gone for two hours?" 

"Hmm... how to answer that," the dark-haired man muttered, staring down to the sand. "Well, you may not have considered it, Ledge, but the truth is that I have no definite plans for our future actions. I don't like the concept of planned events; life is too spontaneous to allow it. I let my hopes up on some predetermined action, and then it blows up in my face, and... well, I just dislike the concept overall. You know, Corsair," he interrupted himself, looking over at his frightened colleague, "you don't have to stand there staring at me like I've got leprosy or something. Come over here." 

Corsair, still drenched in sand and looking pale as a ghost, almost jumped at his boss's sudden acknowledgement of him. Trembling but nodding feebly, he slowly sidled up next to Ledge, who gave him nothing but thoroughly irritated looks the entire time. "Sorry... sir," he said nervously, humbly staring at the ground. "Just not... feeling good." 

"I'd rather you not complain to me, Corsair. You know I dislike it," said Mercutio sternly. "Anyway. To surmise my point, I guess you could say I took the two hours to have a good, long thinking session. I definitely needed it." 

"But for _two hours_, sir?" Ledge pressed on. "Don't you think that's a bit much?" 

"It's not THAT hard of a concept to grasp, Ledge," Mercutio said casually, his face devoid of humor. "I enjoy taking as much time as I please to think about certain things, ESPECIALLY future goals. And thus, I have a generally good idea of where to go from here. Things may get a bit shaky at times, I give you that" - he shot Corsair a cautionary glare - "but the only way we will persevere is through patience. Just keep your trust with me, and future outcomes will undoubtedly be in your favor. That is the key." 

"Right, right," Ledge replied, sounding a little skeptical. "So then, where DO we go from here, anyway? To the fortress, right? I'm getting sick of standing around here all day." 

"Ledge, I just advised the usage of patience, and I intend you to use it well," Mercutio said coolly. "To answer your question... yes, we're going to reach the fortress next. Our arrival to the fortress begins the search for the runaway. I'm sure you all know about that now." 

"The runaway..." Corsair repeated feebly. "You mean... that reploid mercenary you hired a while ago? Dyna-whatsis?" 

"Dynamo," Mercutio scornfully corrected, a look of pure hatred spreading across his face. "Yes. He is extremely dangerous, and if he isn't brought to me soon... then the results will be catastrophic. We can't trust him." 

"Why would they be catastrophic, though?" Ledge asked. "I thought Dynamo had said that the file we needed from the Mavericks was destroyed when he found it, and he abandoned us for his own personal reasons..." 

"Oh, and you believe he was telling the truth?" Mercutio snapped, his voice becoming less collected and more angrily desperate. "I will tell you this right now, Ledge - I have never been very trustworthy of machines, and after what Dynamo did, I will NEVER trust a machine ever again. How am I supposed to believe that he, one of the most power-hungry reploids that I have ever encountered, would abandon us for no reason at all? He HAS that file, I KNOW he does. I can't take his word for it, not in a million years." He paused for a moment, his expression looking tired and anxious, drops of sweat traveling down his face. "We can't afford too many risks right now. If Dynamo lets that file out, then who knows who could get a hold of it? The Hunters, the Mavericks... I can't imagine. I won't let either of them gain more power than they already have, damnit." 

"Umm, Mercush?" Corsair nervously interrupted, raising a limp hand. "I... I know you've been talking about the importance of this file for a long time. But there's one thing that confuses me... what's IN that file that's so important? You've never really told any of us..." 

Mercutio's face twisted a bit at that question; for a moment, it looked as if he were going to explode with anger, like an overly inflated balloon that would pop at any second. But instead, most traces of anger were wiped clean from Mercutio's face, and a sly smirk replaced them almost immediately. "Well... I can assure you, Corsair, that you will all know well about that file when all of this is finally over. That will be a very interesting time." He laughed humorlessly to himself before turning away from both his henchmen. "But, like I said, we will need patience to reach our goal. Right about now, I think it would be best to get to the fortress ruins - we'll search every square inch of that place before leaving. And afterwards... I guess Fate will have more of a hand in that." He beckoned for the other two to follow his lead. "Come on, I'll show you the way. It shouldn't be too long from here, as long as we keep a steady pace." 

With that, he slowly began to walk away from Ledge and Corsair, casually as ever. Knowing how important it was too keep up with Mercutio, Ledge began to follow - that is, until he heard Corsair's perturbed voice once again. 

"Oh.. well, isn't THIS a treat!" he snapped, still shivering in his coat. "First he makes us wait for eons, THEN he doesn't give us ANY information on that stupid file, and NOW he's making us walk into oblivion for Zeus knows how long. And to top it off, I gotta use the bathroom BAD - where am I gonna get any privacy?! THE DESERT SEES ALL, DAMNIT!" 

"Would you just SHUT UP already?" Ledge barked, ignoring his boss for a brief moment. "You know, I thought that you might have learned something from that tent incident, but I guess it's obvious that you're just too friggin' dense to get the picture." He began striding away angrily, facing Mercutio's path. "Follow us whenever you feel mature! That should take you a couple years, I figure." 

But Ledge had failed to see the loophole in his challenge - Corsair might not have been mature in actuality, but he sure as hell FELT mature. Pondering this thought, he shrugged, and followed Ledge and Mercutio on the path that so many soldiers had crossed before. 

* * *

"Okay. I think all four of you have a pretty good idea as to why you're here. Again." 

The dedicated Repliforce commander Jet Stingray measured up the four reploid soldiers who had been brought to his office only a couple minutes ago - they all stood in a straight line in front of him, their eyes narrowed with resentment. The four had already become very familiar faces to the stingray reploid; this was the third time they'd been brought to him in this month alone, and he was certainly getting tired of it. 

"Now, I understand everybody in the Repliforce has their own separate opinions, and that's fine. But I think the four of you need to not let your beliefs affect the way you act in this organization." He leaned against his desk, his blue-and-gold trimmed "wings" gleaming against the fluorescent lighting. "I mean, it's getting ridiculous now..." 

"I still don't know what the problem is, sir," one of the soldiers interrupted, a dark blue-armored reploid with a faded yellow helmet on his head and a piercing set of green eyes. "The four of us were only spreading a little truth around this organization for a change. It's our right, isn't it?" 

"Rights or no rights, this is NOT tolerable, Rixon," Stingray reprimanded, keeping a firm stance on his last words. "I don't care WHAT your beliefs are - the four of you will NOT harass other soldiers in this building for not believing what you believe. That's just stupid-" 

"We weren't harassing them!" another soldier butted in, a female reploid with short black hair and maroon armor. "They're just close-minded. If they had taken just a SECOND to listen to what we had to say, maybe they would have learned something. But they didn't even give us a chance." 

"You didn't give THEM a chance, either!" Stingray scolded. "From what I've seen and heard of you four, all you seem to do is shout a people in the halls and curse at them if they don't listen to you... which I really wouldn't blame them for, anyway. And after this whole ruckus in the training grounds, I'm starting to come to the conclusion that-" 

"That 'ruckus' was kind of started by me, sir," a third soldier chimed in, a male reploid with scraggly red hair and standard green Repliforce armor. "But it wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for that fat guy giving me a dirty look the entire time." 

"That 'fat guy' happened to be a close friend of Doctor Cain's!" Jet said angrily, glaring at the three who had already spoken. "He was there for strictly business reasons, and nothing more. I don't think I need to tell you that Cain was very upset to hear that he had a saber handle lodged up his... well, you know damn well what you did, so I'll spare you the details." 

"Cain..." the female muttered to herself. "I don't trust that guy at all." 

"He's the founder of the Repliforce, Marisa," Stingray reminded here. "I think he deserves some respect." 

"And you know WHY he founded the Repliforce, right?" the reploid known as Rixon challenged him. "His intentions are obvious - he wanted to make a nice, safe, and easily controllable army of reploids to police the world and do ALL of the Hunters' dirty work. After the first three wars and the whole Vile incident, everybody's scared out of their wits." 

"It's all just so the HUMANS can have security!" the girl reploid Marisa shouted. "Don't you get it? The humans send us to fight all of their battles for them, so they can sit on their big fat asses and feel better about themselves for 'preserving the world' or some bull like that. And then when all the fighting's over and the 'bad guys' have been defeated, guess who still gets shafted? REPLOIDS. Humans get all the credit, yet they do nothing." 

"We're a bunch of objects to them," the other male reploid continued for her. "It doesn't matter to them if we die - they can just build more of us, right?" 

"That's ENOUGH!" Stingray exclaimed, a look of frustration on his face. "That's a whole crock of lies, and you all know it. There are plenty of human Hunters who have been fighting Mavericks since the very first breakouts. And furthermore, everybody knows fully well as to why Dr. Cain created this organization - it was a way to give all reploids a very healthy sense of pride, while at the same time allowing them to work towards the idea of a world shared safely by reploids and humans. He's trying to prove that not ALL reploids are rebellious and violent, which you four haven't exactly proved." He breathed in a bit. "And if there's ANY human you want to criticize for treating reploids like military weapons and nothing more, Dr. Cain should be the last one you scowl at. Ever since he discovered X, he's been fighting for the rights of reploids as much as he possibly could. I doubt he would ever want to use us just as weaponry." 

The three speakers fell silent; Jet could hear them muttering inaudibly, their heads facing resentfully to the ground. He was just about ready to issue a punishment before he heard a piercing, cynical laughing coming from his left - it was the fourth reploid, a dark-haired, black-armored soldier that Jet had never actually heard speak. The reploid had been staring sadistically at Stingray for the entire lecture, and now was finally expressing himself. 

"Oh - and what do YOU find funny?" Jet scolded, directing his attention to the lone reploid; in that moment, he suddenly noticed that his entire armor set didn't seem Repliforce-issued in the slightest, and that the Repliforce insignia was strangely absent from his body. 

"What's funny?" the soldier asked cynically, smirking at his friends beside him. "What's funny is your naivety, Jet. You have so idea what the Repliforce will soon be regarded as." 

"Really? And what would THAT be?" 

"Mavericks," he replied surely. "You may not see it, but I do. This organization is too controversial to remain stable - soon enough, the humans will become overly suspicious of us, and deem us a group of insubordinate Mavericks seeking insurrection. They'll eliminate us - all of us - after they find we're not useful anymore, but they'll label us Mavericks to make it easier on them and to fool the world. It's an easy process to them." 

"Come on, you know that won't happen," Jet assured him. "As long as Dr. Cain is around, I doubt that we'll be considered as horrible as Mavericks. You all just need to start thinking rationally..." 

"You speak so harshly of Mavericks, Jet," the reploid observed, refusing to let his commander speak. "I thought you would be a little more sympathetic - after all, you were a Maverick at one point, were you not?" 

Stingray had been fully ready to denounce everything that the fourth soldier was about to say up until that precise moment. His entire body just froze completely, a look of pure shock on his face. Everybody in the room - even the other three speakers - fell completely silent, all staring in awe at the lone black-armored mercenary. As Stingray stared at him, he stared right back - it was almost as if he were challenging the commander to reply, to admit that he once was exactly the opposite of what he was now. It was know that Jet noticed how different this particular soldier was, how his eyes seemed completely cold and soulless... 

"Commander Stingray, sir?" a voice suddenly chimed in, shattering the silence into a million pieces. Still stunned, Jet very slowly turned his head in the direction of the voice - it was one of the General's assistants, a stout male reploid. "I was sent here to hear about the decided punishment, if you're done with these four." 

"Uh... err, yeah, I'm done with them," Jet choked, trying his best to block out the fourth soldier as much as possible. "It'll be a week's long suspension, and we'll keep our watch on them - especially during X's visit. They could cause a lot of trouble while he's here." He gulped a bit before continuing. "You can... take them now. They're dismissed." 

* * *

"What WAS that, Mark?" whispered Marisa, as the four followed the assistant down a long hallway. "Since when has Stingray been a Maverick?" 

"There's still lots that the three of you have yet to know," Mark replied callously, a smirk on his face. "I'm sure plenty of information will help the three of you in what you're trying to do. Don't worry about the suspension... we'll be able to bounce back much sooner than you think." 


	6. No One Knows My Plan

**Chapter 5: No One Knows My Plan**

* * *

Zero was running. He had no idea how, no idea why, no idea where, no idea when... all he knew was that he was moving his legs as fast as possible, his breath running short and his entire mind and body in some kind of haze. It seemed almost as if he'd been running for miles; it surprised him to see how fatigued he was at the time, especially considering that he was a reploid and was designed for this kind of strain. But there was some other force tugging at him, pulling him back... 

Even in this unstoppable haze, Zero managed to figure out where he was - a narrow corridor, one that he remembered having walked through many times in the past. But something was different about it this time around; the walls looked like they were painted with red, throbbing and closing in on him as he ran. The hall also looked much longer than he remembered, as if it stretched into eternity. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him, but he just couldn't tell - all he could think about was that he couldn't stop running, and if he did- 

He stopped. By instinct, he noticed that the seemingly endless hallway he had been charging through had reached its end; to his left was another passageway. Breathing fast and trying his hardest to ignore the physical fatigue he endured, Zero peered down the other passage. But it was no use, and he knew it - all red, it was just more and more red haze, and he couldn't interpret what was going on... 

...then, finally, something appeared. At first, all Zero could see of it was an outline in a slightly darker shade of red than the rest of his surroundings; but eventually, it started to take a shape. Desperately trying to shake away the crimson blur, Zero rubbed his eyes and squinted as hard as he possibly could. But still, all he could see was more and more red... he was about ready to give up at that point, to fall to the floor in a lifeless heap, hoping a good slumber would jolt him back to his senses somehow... 

Then, finally, something clicked; even in the midst of this haze, Zero remembered something that made sense for the very first time since he was there. He couldn't completely decipher what this memory was, exactly - but he knew that he needed to act on it as soon as possible. His body almost acting automatically, the Crimson Hunter's boot thrusters suddenly came to life, and soon enough he found himself barreling down the other hallway, completely focused on reaching that figure, whoever it was. Something was telling him that he NEEDED to catch this figure, to stop whatever he was doing... 

"Braunwood!" Zero heard himself shout, feeling himself start to lose control. The figure was much more visible now than before; he wore a small black coat, with even darker black hair and very pale skin. Even if he couldn't get a very good look at this mysterious man, Zero knew deep down that this was his target, this was the person he had been running after, THIS was the man that forced him into this haze. All he could think about was that he needed out, he needed to catch this man if it was the last thing he did. 

But the task would prove much more difficult than Zero imagined - obviously sensing the impeding danger, the man had sprinted away from Zero as fast as he possibly could, pumping his legs with incredible strength and speed. Still, nothing could quell Zero's determination at this point; seeing him run just energized the Hunter even further, the red haze now serving as aid rather than a hindrance. He was right on the man's heels when he heard himself shout "BRAUNWOOD!" once again, pushing every ounce of energy he had left into his legs, forcing them to propel him towards this figure. He was now closer to him than ever before, and could almost sense the fear in his soul... 

That is, until both of them were suddenly forced to stop right there - they'd finally reached a dead end. 

The man spun around, facing Zero for the first time. His entire figure was now completely distinguishable - young and lean, with very dark hair and clothing to match. His skin looked even paler than usual, with fear coursing through every vein in his body. Trapped against the wall like a mouse to a cat, looked into Zero's eyes with his own - both a cold and unnatural black. Zero stared right back at him; he himself was leaning over, gasping for air, his senses enflamed with that same reddish catalyst that somehow wouldn't go away. His body seemed to have automatically come to a halt when this other man did; if it hadn't, then he probably would have collided against the wall, taking the figure with him. As odd as it was, he couldn't focus on it right now - he was fixated on this shady-looking man, still trying to figure out why he pursued him, only to be met with more and more of the evil redness... 

"So," the man said with a callous voice, despite the fearful look on his face. "What... do YOU want from me?" 

"What's going on, Braunwood?!" Zero suddenly spouted out - he now realized that not only was he unable to control his body, but his words as well. His body was beyond his control, save for his mind, which was completely in the clouds. "I come out of training to see three of my friends struggling to live, and then I see you dashing through the halls like a madman, and then this haze... what the hell are you doing?!" 

The man's response was immediate; a cool, wry smile formed on his lips, shoving his fear aside. His eyes almost looked excited, and for what reason Zero didn't want to know. His entire body trembled as he felt himself starting to stand upright, finally at even height with the stranger; looking at him now, it seemed like he enjoyed watching Zero struggle, like an artist admiring his masterpiece. 

"Braunwood! Damnit, SAY something!" Zero heard himself shout, breathing heavily. Without hesitation, he converted his right arm to a buster cannon and leveled it directly at the man's face, his arm visibly weaker than usual. He could feel his blood boiling angrily throughout his entire system. "Just tell me what's going on, and we'll make a clean break, alright? Don't make me hurt you." 

Even with the imposing threat, the man hardly seemed phased; he started straight into the mouth of the cannon, his eyes narrowed, as if daring the Hunter to take a shot. Zero himself didn't know why he needed to threaten this man - he just wanted to leave this haze, and he didn't see how killing this guy would help him in that department. But his body refused his commands, and he stood there as rigid as ever, ready to attack but finding it difficult to do so. 

"Hurt me?" the man said almost comically, his smirk more apparent than ever as he bored into Zero's enraged eyes once again. The man was so determined at this point, it frightened the Crimson Hunter to the bone; what was this psycho up to now? "Oh, no, Zero. I don't think you're going to be hurting me anytime soon." 

"Pshh," Zero replied coarsely, charging his buster to its first level. "I'll be the one to decide that, Braunwood. Now come with me, and nobody'll get hurt, okay?" 

"That isn't necessary..." the man said even more gleefully than before. Zero wondered why until, at long last, his answer came in the form of a horrible pain searing through his entire body - out of seemingly nowhere, the red haze became a thousand times more powerful than before, completely clouding his vision and ripping him apart from the inside-out. He toppled to the ground, hitting his spine hard against the tiled flooring; Zero was starting to think that he'd be encased in this red hell forever until, miraculously, it subsided. 

Or so he thought. It didn't take long for Zero to realize that the haze had drained away a great deal of energy - so much so that he found it a daunting task just to lift his head up. Not to mention that he was in one of the worst mental states of his life; he still couldn't figure out who this man was, let alone why and how he was so ruthlessly attacking him. He just wanted to go to sleep, to wake up in peace in some far off land, to get away from the red- 

"Just like that," he heard the man say, "and I could have you killed in an instant." 

"_No..._" Zero whimpered; the tone of his voice indicated that he had just discovered something, something horrible. Mustering every ounce of strength he had left in him, he lifted his head up to meet the evil face of this man, a look of extreme anger imprinted on his own. "You didn't... you stole it from..." 

"Cain," he replied with a terrifying amount of scorn; for the first time, he said something that Zero could understand, even in the state he was in. "Yes, it was certainly easy to subdue HIM... but you might require a bit more work." 

"Wha... no!" Zero yelped, attempting to push himself upward but being forced back by constant shots of pain in his spine and arms. "You won't... get away!" 

"Oh, I will. And here's why." He raised his arm high, high enough so that Zero had an almost perfect view of it; horrified, the Crimson Hunter saw a stream of red mist forming a barrier around his arm, undoubtedly the same red mist that had been torturing Zero for what seemed like an eternity. But before Zero could do a thing to defend himself, the redness had again taken over his body, much worse than before - pain surged throughout every crevice of his systems, unlike any he had ever endured. Redness had drowned his senses out, allowing him no room to live; his attempts to scream in agony were pointless, as the fog was choking him, entering his throat and sucking the lifeblood out of him like a leech. All he could see was red, more and more red... 

...until, finally, it faded to black. Zero lay on the invisible ground, frozen with fear; the pain had disappeared somehow, and he was now alone. He could still hear something, though - laugher, a maniacal laugh that sent infinite chills down his spine. Suddenly, the Hunter found himself falling through the floor, venturing deeper and deeper into the darkness. Very faintly, he heard these words as he fell: 

_"I'll let you off easy this time around. But just remember that the Hunters can't keep up this charade for long. As long as I'm alive, I'll help make sure that your dream is never to be seen. I promise that. _

"Oh, and next time you see Cain, tell him this: I HATE him. You hear that? I HATE HIM!!" 

Soon, all Zero could hear were the words "I HATE HIM!" over and over again, this hateful voice in his ear that just drove him insane. He needed to awaken from this nightmare, or else he knew that he would die right then and there. Gaining mobility once again, he covered his ears, but it was no use; the voice became louder and louder, pounding at Zero's brain like a jackhammer, drilling into it and infecting it as he continued to fall into oblivion... 

* * *

And then, there was silence. 

Zero awoke with a start. Still in a state of shock, it took a minute or so for him to realize that he was lying in a small, semi-comfortable bed inside of a tent-like structure. The darkness was gone, the evil laughter was gone, the horrible pain was gone; observing his surroundings, he saw that he was in his assigned Repliforce tent, with some books and supplies strewn all around him. Most reassuring, the light of day shone on him from the tent's opening, something he almost thought he'd never see again. 

"A dream..." he muttered with a strong sigh of relief, still breathing heavily from his nightmarish vision. "I knew it." 

Despite the relief he felt being back in his bed, Zero was still chilled by his dream - he wanted very much to just erase it from his mind forever, but he knew he couldn't do that, especially with a nightmare of this magnitude. The pain that he had felt before was real - too real. For a second he considered the possibility that he might have something wrong with his internals, but a quick inner CPU scan showed nothing out of the ordinary. Was it some kind of foretelling of the future, or was it some odd fantasy intermingled with some bad memories...? Or was he just going out of his mind? 

As much as the thought of the dream frightened him, Zero knew that it would be wise for him to at least TRY to shrug it off for a time - there were more important things to take care of. His clock indicated that it was already well past seven, even when he had already set it to four last night. 

"Damnit, does this thing EVER work?!" he cursed, grabbing the electronic and angrily tossing it across the room. Constant, sweltering rage wasn't something Zero harbored most of the time, but memories of the horrible pain in his dream still seemed to be affecting him. As much as he tried, he still couldn't get that feeling of pain out of his head, so much so that it felt like he couldn't even find the energy to lift himself out of bed. What the hell was going on with him? 

Before he could come up with any kind of logical answer to this, an enraged yell sounded from outside the tent: 

"I HATE HIM!" 

He froze. For a fleeting moment, he thought that he still hadn't awoken from his nightmare; that the man who he had envisioned was right outside, ready to encase him in that red haze once again. But that feeling faded away surprisingly fast when he realized that the voice he heard outside couldn't possibly have been that man - it was much, MUCH more feminine sounding. Still a little woozy, he wasn't completely sure whom the voice belonged to until his answer walked right into the tent. 

"God, I hate him so MUCH!" the new figure bellowed, blocking out some of the daylight shining in; Zero rubbed his eyes a bit to see a short, pretty female reploid standing in front of the tent's flap. She wore what looked like a Repliforce uniform, made up of a yellow blouse and shorts that extended below the knee. Her hair was much more tangled and uncombed than usual, and she had a very bemused look on her face, which Zero noticed almost immediately. He knew it was never a good sign. 

"Iris," Zero said, weakly trying to sit up in his bed. "Uh... things going well?" 

"Hi Zero," the reploid known as Iris groaned, conveniently ignoring Zero's question. "I haven't come in at a bad time, have I?" 

"Well, actually, I was just about-" 

"Good," she tersely cut him off, moving out of his sight and sitting on a chair on the other side of the tent. "I've honestly had ENOUGH of people's attitudes this morning, and I don't need any more of it. Just makes me sick." 

"Hrm?" Zero muttered, lifting himself up to meet Iris's eyeline. "Something wrong, I figure...?" 

"To say the least," she huffed, resting a cheek on her open palm. "My brother's being a dick." 

The Crimson Hunter couldn't help but laugh a little at that remark, but quickly stopped after a dead serious glare from Iris. "Oh, sorry," Zero apologized, still trying to wipe the smirk off of his face. "So there's been a tiff between you and Colonel, eh?" 

"More than that! I was VICTIMIZED, Zero. He always does that." 

"...uh, right. Maybe I should just let the two of you iron this one out yourselves." 

"Oh, come on, Zero!" she said pleadingly, a look of desperation mixed with anger on her face. "I want you to listen to me, okay? Maybe you can help me out, since you and Colonel seem to be good friends. Right?" 

"Well... I guess," he submitted. "Not too serious of a problem, is it?" 

"That probably would depend on your definition of 'serious', but that's beside the point," Iris explained, sounding somewhat less frazzled that before. "See, I was talking to him in his tent after this morning's scouting mission had been called off, and he mentioned that-" 

"Wait - what?" Zero butted in, looking puzzled. "The scouting mission was called off? Is THIS why I wasn't woken up before?" 

"I think so," Iris said nonchalantly. "Anyway, while I was talking to my brother, he mentioned that tonight there's gonna be another... scouting... thing. I forget what it was exactly, but I'm pretty sure it was important. So, long story short-" 

"WHY was it called off?" Zero interrupted again, still caught in the dark. "Did he tell you?" 

"I'll get to that LATER, Zero!" Iris scolded. "Can I finish my story already?" 

The Hunter rolled his eyes; he knew that once Iris was focused on something, she would stay that way for a good long while and there wasn't much one could do to stop her. "Fine, fine. Go on," Zero said with reluctance. "So you were talking to him in the tent. What did he say?" 

Iris beamed in triumph. "Oh-kay. Well, we were talking like normal, and he mentioned the second scouting thing tonight. So I asked him if I could go, right?" 

"Right." 

"And guess what? He says NO!" she exclaimed, waving her arms around as she spoke. "I couldn't believe it! He knows how well trained I am for missions like that, but he still treats me like I'm his little sister. I HATE him when he acts like that." 

"Well, you ARE his little sister, aren't you?" Zero reasoned. 

Iris narrowed her eyes. "Well, I guess, if you want to get all technical," she admitted. "But we were activated only a few minutes apart! And besides, I'm MUCH more mature now that I was back then. Colonel wouldn't believe that, though." 

"Mmm hmm," Zero agreed, finally pushing the bedcovers off of him and getting his armor strapped on. His hair, mangled from the unpleasant sleep he had just awoken from, quickly became a nuisance; every time he tried to get his helmet on, the long golden strands would refuse to straighten out. "Gahh. Anyway, was there anything else Colonel said that I should know?" 

"There's one last thing, I think," Iris pondered, stroking her hair a bit - the sight of Zero's bed-head made her more self-conscious of her own. "He told me that the mission would start around seven-thirty, and probably last overnight. Then, in the morning, they'll head back at 9:30 - around the time X should be arriving at our building, I think. Anyway..." 

"Uh huh - WHA?!" Zero blurted out, hoping that his ears weren't packed with gauze. "You just - wha - guh - hold on a minute! Did you just say something about X going to your building? The REPLIFORCE building?" 

"Well, yeah!" Iris said. "He's leaving tomorrow morning, and he's staying for a couple of days. I thought you knew about it...?" 

"Nobody ever told me anything about that!" Zero barked, getting up as fast as he could and quickly putting on the last parts of his armor. "I don't get it - why is he going?" 

"He's gonna give a speech, last I checked." 

"SPEECH?! Oh, GOD, this is worse than I thought!" 

"What? What's the problem?" Iris questioned, looking as confused as ever. "You seem really... uppity about this." 

"Well, I think I have a right to!" Zero panicked. "This isn't gonna turn out good. There's just... no way. X is gonna get eaten alive if he's by himself." 

"Eaten alive? What?" 

"Iris, he's not exactly well-liked back at your home. If he stays there for too long... agh, I don't even wanna THINK about what'll happen." 

"Oh, Zero, you're overreacting!" Iris scolded, lifting herself from the chair and crossing her arms. "X has already faced PLENTY of abuse in the past - actually, he's probably faced more violence in the past 5 years than most humans AND reploids have faced in their entire lives. Don't you think he could defend himself pretty easily by now?" 

"Yeah, but that's PHYSICAL abuse you're talking about. And X can take that, sure," he reasoned. "But that's not the problem here. I'm talking about MENTAL ABUSE. No offense to him, but X is a little unbalanced in the old noggin, and he has a pretty short fuse because of it. One little insult could set him off, and without somebody there to calm him down... hoboy, that won't go well. Something needs to be done." 

"What, YOU'RE gonna do something?" Iris challenged, scowling. "Come on, Zero. Stop worrying about it. There's nothing you can do from where you are now..." 

"Like HELL there is!" Zero rebuttaled, finally managing to get his hair back into its standard ponytail. "I'm not sitting here while my friend gets chewed into baby food. The poor kid needs my help." 

"So what're you gonna do?" 

"What do you think? I'm gonna ask Colonel if I can get to the Repliforce building around the time X arrives." 

"What?! Are you CRAZY?" Iris exclaimed, flailing her arms madly. "My brother's in a bad enough mood already - do you REALLY expect him to let you leave in the middle of a mission?" 

"It's worth a try, isn't it?" he said, shrugging. "I don't care at this point. All I know is that I've gotta get to your HQ by tomorrow morning, and I'll keep begging your poor brother until he lets me go." 

"Ugh..." Iris huffed, sitting back in her seat and burying her face in her hands. "Okay, fine! Go ahead. But believe me, if you end up getting sliced down the middle and melted into a thousand tuna containers, don't come crying to ME, alright? I've warned you enough." She sighed audibly as Zero began to exit the tent. "Jeez. I've had enough rejection this morning from my brother - why do I need it from _you_, too?" 

Zero paused, observing Iris's downtrodden state - as much of a hurry he was in, he couldn't help but feel some pity for her. "Hmm..." he muttered. "Err, do YOU wanna come too?" 

Iris stared up at Zero with disbelief. "Wha?" 

"Yeah, that's a GREAT idea!" Zero exclaimed, complimenting himself. "I mean, think about it - you don't wanna hang around this place with nothing to do, and I wanna get to the Repliforce building and make sure X doesn't go insane. It'll be killing two birds with one stone! PERFECT." 

"Um... well," Iris pondered. "Zero, I think you're getting a little over-ambitious. I wouldn't mind leaving, but Colonel wouldn't-" 

"Don't worry, I can convince 'em!" Zero beamed with pride. "Colonel's my friend, he'll listen to me. Besides, you'd love to go back home, right? Yeah, this'll work out great! Come on!" 

"Wait, Zero, hold on a-" Iris pleaded before Zero grabbed her arm and pulled her with him out of the tent, where the sun greeted both of their sullen eyes. 

* * *

"You disgusting arrangement of decaying metal. The Gods spit on you!" 

X stared his attacker down, his eyes as narrowed and focused as a hawk's. He didn't flinch - he refused to. 

"What's the matter, Mr. Hunter Altar Boy? You afraid? Come on, stand up to me! That is, if your mamma'll let ya." 

Hah - easy one. X still didn't flinch. This wasn't half as bad as he thought. 

"Ah, I see how it is now!" the attacker mocked. "You must be busy thinking about your BOYFRIENDS back at home! All thirty of them! I bet you're FANTASIZING about them as I speak!" 

Ohhhh no. Not the Generic Gay Insults. If there was anything that struck a nerve in X's systems, it HAD to be insults that falsely shoved him into a gay relationship. His main problem with it was that he had NO idea why people would think he was gay in the first place... but still, he refused to flinch. One gay joke wasn't enough to bring HIM down. 

"Wussie reploid! Traitorous moron! You want Dr. Cain to give ya a sponge bath?!" 

As much as he tried to hold back, he could now feel parts of his head twitching - this was starting to get rough. But he knew he could hold out, just for another minute or so... 

"I bet ZERO'S your lover! Haha! Yeah, Mr. Prissy Boy, I bet you've got a crush on that guy. You love him. You wanna have, like, ten thousand of his babies..." 

"GAHH! SHUT UP!!" X shouted, standing up on his bed and staring at his attacker menacingly. It was over. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE, DAMNIT! YOUR MOTHER SUCKS WALNUTS!" 

"Ahhh..." murmured Glacier Dragoon, X's "attacker", who sat on the carpeted floor with his legs crossed. He quickly pressed a button on a small stopwatch he held in his hand, and checked the time. 

"Oh, jeez," X huffed in defeat, sitting back down on his bed to catch his breath. "Uh... well, did I improve this time?" 

Glacier shook his head. "Not quite - you lasted about 27 seconds this time. A small improvement, I guess, but still not enough to last you for 2 days. Sorry." 

"What? Gimme that!" X barked, snatching the tiny watch out of Glacier's hand and squinting to read the results. "Great, just great. Just how the hell am I supposed to take the insults from a bunch of Repliforce soldiers when I can't even take YOU jabbing at me?" 

"You know, I think you're just taking this way too seriously," Glacier said casually, biting at one of his claws as if it didn't pose a threat at all. "Do you honestly expect _everybody_ to be making fun of you like this? I've heard that most of the Repliforce is perfectly sound in the mental department." A wry grin formed on his somewhat elongated face. "And just out of curiosity - what IS it with you and gay jokes? They've never bothered me, or most reploids AND humans that I know." 

X groaned at that question. "I'm not THAT affected by it," he reasoned. "But I just think it's stupid. I mean, how do I, in ANY way, act effeminate?" 

Glacier stared straight into X's eyes after that comment, sniggering a bit. His actions spoke more that his words ever could. 

"_Rhetorical question_," X emphasized, huffing a bit. "Don't you even start." 

"I didn't say a word!" Glacier pleaded, holding his hands up to prove his innocence. "Not my fault if you're delirious. And another thing - I think we need to work on your comebacks, my friend. 'Your mother sucks walnuts'? I mean... wow." 

"Ah, shut up," X said, looking positively miffed. "And I'm sure YOU could do better?" 

"Oh, I KNOW I could do better than something involving mothers and walnuts," Glacier said assuringly. "Hell, ANYBODY could come up with a better comeback than that! If you brought that comeback to the friggin' Pope, he'd spit in your face and write up about 20 better ones so you could _learn something_. Seriously." 

"Alright, that's enough," X scowled. "Jeez. You know, I thought you were gonna HELP me, Glacier. Not make fun of me." 

"I _am_ helping you," Glacier corrected. "It's called criticism. If you want to improve, you need to be able to handle it and use it to your own advantage. But I think it's obvious that you're not very good at taking critique." 

"Critique. Pshh." X ripped his azure helmet off of his head, revealing a huddled mass of black hair consuming the top it. His eyes looked worn out with time. "I can't keep this up anymore. Maybe I'll just hit the hay or something." 

"X, it's 3 P.M.," Glacier said, pointing at the digital clock sitting on a nightstand on the other side of X's dorm. "You woke up at 11, and you've been sitting around all day, so I don't know why you would be so tired already." 

"I'm MENTALLY tired," X said groggily, pointing lamely at his head. "You wouldn't understand." 

"'Mentally tired'. Pshaw." Glacier shook his head. "Jeez, if only Zero would here. He'd put a boot up your ass and shout insults at you while you cried like a little girl." 

"I would NOT cry," X scolded, sounding even more pathetic than before. "And Zero would whoop my ass, sure. But he's not HERE. So unless _you'd_ like to take a stab at injuring me, you're at a loss." 

"Yeah, I guess you're right there," Glacier said with amusement, biting at another of his claws. "Speaking of Zero - you think he heard about us going to the Repliforce building tomorrow? Maybe Cain wants to keep it private, but I'm not sure why he'd want to do that." 

"Oh, I'm SURE Zero knows," X huffed, falling down backwards on the bed and stretching out his limbs. "No way it could be kept a secret, right? But I honestly don't think he would give a crap." 

"Ahh, come on. Don't say that..." Glacier said. "Zero's your friend, right? I think it would be natural for him to be at least a _little_ worried." 

"HAHA. Right!" X laughed. "Trust me, I know Zero. When he's out having fun slashing up Mavericks or going on scouting missions or whatever, he really, REALLY enjoys it. Eventually it gets to the point where he loves it so much that he doesn't give a shit about anybody who isn't with him at the time. So no, I doubt he would care." 

"Uh huh," Glacier recognized as his eyes widened a bit. "Well, you think that he's not worried about you going because he thinks that you can defend yourself on your own now?" 

"Nah. He would never buy into that." 

"Or because I'm going with you?" 

"Nah. You suck." 

Glacier snorted audibly. "This is true," he admitted. "But still - you never know what Zero could be doing. Maybe he's trying out something to help you, right now, as we speak." He took a moment to reflect. "But I guess my main question would be this - do you really WANT him to help you out?" 

X sat up, looking Glacier straight in the eyes; it occurred to him that he hadn't really thought about that before. "Err, well..." he muttered. "To be honest? No, I really don't." 

"Really?" Glacier asked, raising his synthetic eyebrows. "Well, then why were you getting all upset over Zero not caring just now?" 

"Well, lemme put it this way..." X explained. "I'll give you one thing I want from Zero, and one thing I don't want. The thing I want is for him to give a damn about his friends once in a while. The thing I DON'T want is for him to treat me like I was built yesterday. Simple as that." 

"So you don't want him to be overly callous, but you also don't want him to treat you like a kid?" 

"Yeah. That sounds about right," X confirmed. "I mean, he did that during the first war - which was pretty justified, since I was a helpless puppy back then - but he still does it once in a while, and it gets annoying. I mean, imagine if he were to show up at the Repliforce building suddenly, and then spend the time there walking me to the bathroom and all that stuff. That would just be... creepy." 

Glacier nodded. "Well, I don't think anybody would want that." 

* * *

"Okay, let me get this straight," said a commanding voice. "What you're asking me to do is give you a temporary pardon from your duties here, starting tomorrow morning." 

"That's right." 

"And included in this pardon, you want me to give you permission to stay at the Repliforce building for a full two days. You want to monitor X's activities." 

"Yep." 

"...and Iris wants to go with you, too." 

"She seems willing." 

"Hmm." The Repliforce Colonel leaned back in his chair and thought about Zero's proposal once again - but the more he thought about it, the more it perplexed him. Just yesterday night, it didn't seem as if Zero had any intention of leaving the small Repliforce squad at all. Now, he seemed as eager as ever to completely ditch it. Where was the sense in that? 

"Well, Zero," he addressed, looking down at the Maverick Hunter from his desk; the Colonel's formal black, white, and red Repliforce battle armor made him appear a bit bulkier than the Crimson Wonder, especially from the angle he was at. "It's an interesting proposal, no doubt. Still, though, I'm kind of confused as to why you would want to do this in the first place. My apologies if I'm a little slow, but..." 

"Nah, don't worry about it," Zero assured him, adjusting the position of his chair. "I know it's pretty rushed, considering that X's visit is just tomorrow, but it's only been since this morning that I even heard about it." 

"So X is at the core of this?" Colonel concluded, rubbing his chin. "I see." 

Zero gulped. He knew well that Colonel wasn't a big fan of X at all - despite his military victories against the Mavericks, Colonel viewed X as more of a reluctant pacifist who got lucky a few times rather than a savior of mankind. "Well, yeah, X has a key part in it," Zero admitted. "I figure he might need some support." 

"Hmph. Support." Colonel straightened the black-colored Repliforce hat atop his head. "This is what confuses me. If X is such a decorated and skilled warrior, why does he need so many aides to surround him at all times while he's at our building? He should be able to take care of himself." 

"Well, I'm not worried about him in the fighting department, to be honest," Zero said defensively; he had a feeling that the Colonel wouldn't let him off lecture-free. "It's more _emotional_ support, really. He could use a friend or two. X and loneliness don't breed well." 

"I'm sure that my soldiers back at the HQ won't be hostile towards him." 

"I didn't mean it THAT way. I mean that he could use some company, you know? And no offense to him, but I'm a bit more respected over there." 

"Hrm..." Colonel said for the umpteenth time. Still thinking, he turned to his tired-looking sister, Iris, sitting to Zero's left. "Iris? You agree with him?" 

"Yeah..." she said groggily; after arguing with her brother, Zero tugging her across the field, and having to wait for an hour or so just to see her brother once _again_, she just felt like falling onto the floor and taking a nap right then and there. "I pretty much agree with what he said. That, and I'd like to have SOMETHING to do." 

Colonel rolled his eyes a bit, straightening out some papers on his desk. "I see." 

"Oh, don't give me that look," Iris huffed, narrowing her eyes at her brother. 

"Iris, calm down. Your brother isn't out to kill you," Zero assured her. 

"Well, I don't know about THAT," Colonel said, sounding amused. "But kidding aside, Zero... I've decided to make good on your proposal. It seems kind of fishy to me, and I'm upset that you won't be able to join me on our next mission, but I do trust your judgment." 

"Whew! Thanks," Zero said gratefully. "Trust me, I'll be a good boy." 

"Just some guidelines," Colonel butted in, still with his serious tone. "For one thing, keep an eye on Iris. I don't want her getting into any trouble over there." 

"It's my HOME! I'll be fine!" Iris blurted out. 

"Second," Colonel continued, ignoring his sister's outburst entirely. "Make sure X isn't... well, remiss in his duties. He's there for a reason, and I'll be damned if he starts goofing off or something." 

"I know. I'm sure he'll be fine, especially if I'm around," Zero agreed. 

Colonel gave a wry smile, one that unnerved Zero a bit. "Well, just be prepared. You never know what might come up." 


End file.
